The Real Thing
by wildcat7898
Summary: Kirk, Spock, and Uhura reencounter their old friend the Squire of Gothos, who takes them back to one of the most violent periods in the history of Earth. This story follows "A Roll of the Dice."
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Real Thing

Author: Wildcat

Series: TOS

Rating: K+

Codes: S/U, Kirk

Summary: Kirk, Spock, and Uhura reencounter their old friend the Squire of Gothos, who takes them back to one of the most violent periods in the history of Earth.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Kirk, Spock, Uhura, and company. I have just borrowed them for a while and will not profit from any of this.

Although this story is part of my Spock/Uhura universe, it is intended to stand alone. If you want to place it in the timeline, it takes place between A Roll of the Dice and The Most Forgiven.

Thanks go to Jungle Kitty, my New York City tour guide, to Suzie for her terrific idea, and to ebonbird for her comments.

This story won 3rd place for "Best S/U" in the 2000 Golden O Awards.

Feedback is desired.

The Real Thing, chapter 1

Comfortably ensconced in the center chair, Captain Kirk sipped his coffee as he thumbed forward to the next report on his padd. The Enterprise was on routine passage through a featureless area of space, and he found that his biggest challenge at the moment consisted of simply trying to stay alert. He could also tell by the silence surrounding him that his crew was every bit as underwhelmed by the inactivity as he was. As a matter of fact, the only two people who seemed to be enjoying themselves were Spock and Uhura, who sat at the communications station trying to track down an insignificant glitch in one of Uhura's diagnostic routines.

Kirk grinned as he glanced in their direction. While debugging communications might not be his idea of fun, Spock and Uhura obviously relished any chance to work together, no matter how tedious the task. As a matter of fact, even after four years of marriage and countless more years of friendship, they had clearly never tired of the professional aspects of their partnership. It was interesting that he, Kirk, had once worried about the complications of fraternization-if anything, their contentment had rubbed off on everyone around them, and the smooth functioning of the command crew had only been enhanced.

His musings were interrupted by Chekov's puzzled voice.

"Captain? Sensors are detecting what appears to be a planetary body ahead."

Kirk put down his coffee and moved over behind Chekov. "How could that be? Our charts show that this area of space is nothing more than a wasteland."

"I cannot explain, Captain, but there it is."

"Affirmed." Back at the science station, Spock leaned over his viewer. "Iron silica body, magnitude 1E. It is inconceivable that this body has gone unnoted on all of our records..."

Spock's voice trailed off, and when he turned to meet Kirk's eyes, Kirk caught his breath at the realization that he'd heard those words before. That was exactly what Spock had said when they encountered another planet floating unexpectedly in barren space almost twenty-five years ago.

Kirk frowned. "It couldn't be-"

"Ah, yes, my dear Captain, but it very well could! After all this time, we meet again."

Turning sharply at the foppish voice, Kirk curled his hands into fists when he saw that they had an uninvited visitor on the bridge.

"Trelane."

"In the flesh! So to speak." The dark-haired man giggled. "I am so very touched that you remember me. But then again, we had quite an adventure, you and I. It is such a pity that my parents interrupted us."

Kirk felt Spock's presence by his side. "It would appear that Trelane has updated his costume," Spock muttered.

Trelane lifted his arms, posing in the crisply tailored green jacket and trousers. "Very good, Mr. Spock! I see that you recognize my uniform. Smashing, isn't it? It comes from a period in Earth history that is infinitely more interesting than the one I was studying before. Such a bloody and cruel time, it almost sent your human friends back to another dark age. Wonderfully entertaining, really, the killing and maiming, the fight for supremacy. I'm utterly captivated by it all."

"What do you want, Trelane?" demanded Kirk.

"Oh, how I love your violent tone. It serves so well to illustrate your predatory inclinations." Trelane smiled charmingly. "I've had a long time to think about what you told me when we met before. Do you remember? You said that the real thing is much better than make-believe, and you were so right! Why, I have never felt more alive than I did when I was chasing you. The thrill of pursuit, the excitement of bloodlust. I've taken your words to heart, and I have the most heavenly idea."

Filled with foreboding, Kirk took a deep breath. "Trelane, leave my bridge. Now. You're an intruder, and we want no part of whatever you have planned."

"Oh, pish posh. You'll change your mind once the fun starts. You're coming with me, and I won't take no for an answer."

Trelane waved his hand, and suddenly Kirk found himself attired in a tunic and trousers from the same era as Trelane's uniform. Looking to his side, he saw that Spock wore a similar outfit.

Trelane turned his gaze toward Uhura. "Ah, Sheba, the beautiful Nubian prize. I think you should join our little outing, too. There!"

Uhura sat back in bewilderment as her uniform was replaced by the same loose-fitting attire, except that she also wore a lightweight jacket that Kirk recognized as having been fashionable long ago.

"Trelane-"

Before Kirk could continue, Trelane cried, "Tally ho! Let the adventure begin!"

With a flash, Kirk found himself standing on a sidewalk in the middle of a bustling city. Ground vehicles whizzed past, and a single air vehicle could be glimpsed between the tall, crowded buildings. He could even fancy that he felt the ground shake as subterranean trains roared through the tunnels he assumed existed beneath his feet.

Trelane lifted his arms and shouted, "Marvelous!"

Moving close, Uhura whispered, "Where are we?"

"I'm not sure, but I think that I have a pretty good idea," replied Kirk. "New York City, right?"

Spock nodded. "Specifically, Manhattan. Note the street signs describing various local attractions. Judging by Trelane's summary of the period as well as his attire, I would assume that the year is 2035. Nyota, may I have your sash?"

"Sure."

She pulled the strip of soft, brown fabric out of the loops on the back of her jacket and handed it to Spock, who promptly tied it around his head.

Looking at the sky, Kirk said, "Colonel Green is probably up on the moon right now, amassing his forces and fine-tuning his weapons. In Europe, the economy is just poised to crash. Opposing armies in Asia are wiping out each other and anyone who gets in their way. A cartel in Africa is plotting world dominance. And just west of here, two so-called eugenics research facilities are being prepared for the internment and eventual murder of over a million people."

"Oh, my God." Uhura's voice was hushed. "World War III. And we're right here where it all began."

"Exactly," said Spock. "Since Trelane evidently brought us here for the purpose of witnessing Colonel Green's destruction of the city, I would suggest that we leave the vicinity as quickly as possible-"

"Too late! Too late!" Trelane clapped his hands gleefully. "Oh, I'm so good! I timed it perfectly!"

Kirk realized that an ominous, almost subsonic rumble was beginning to fill the air, causing the busy pedestrians to stop in confusion. He knew exactly what was about to happen, so he turned Uhura roughly toward a nearby subway tunnel just as the shadows began to fall over the city. Not even bothering to look up at the immense ships blocking the sun, he shouted, "Run! Quick, find shelter!"

Suddenly, a blinding red bolt streamed down from the sky. A nearby building exploded into a shower of fiery debris as the top two-thirds were crudely vaporized, and the crowd erupted into a screaming panic. People surged in every direction, and Kirk held onto Uhura's arm with all of his might as they struggled to reach the subway. Although he knew from historical records that this was the period of Earth's greatest overpopulation, nothing prepared him for the hordes of people streaming from the buildings to the streets.

He kept his eyes on his destination as he heard another building explode, and another, and another, but he knew that for every three steps they managed to move forward, the multitudes swarming up from the subway pushed them back two again. People were falling all around them, some struck down by the debris, others simply trampled by the mob. He almost ran into Uhura as she recoiled, and he realized a moment later that she had dodged a bloody, unidentifiable body part that had rained down from above. Instead of resuming her forward motion, however, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes big as she looked wildly over his shoulder.

"Where's Spock?"

"What?" He leaned close, buffeted mercilessly by the ebb and flow of the mob as he tried to retain his grip on her arm.

"Where's Spock? I thought that he was right behind you!"

Kirk whipped around and searched the crowd. Instead of finding Spock, he saw Trelane, standing frozen in the midst of the chaos. The former Squire of Gothos, so imperious and smug before, was obviously terrified by the realities of war.

"Trelane!" Kirk shouted. "Get us out of this!"

"No." Trelane took a step back, cowering. "No. This isn't what I expected."

"TRELANE! Take us back!"

Trelane wailed, "I can't! I can't! Nothing is working!"

Kirk turned away in disgust, understanding that he and Uhura were on their own. Quickly scanning the area, he pointed at a nearby building. "See that high, decorative railing? Can you make it over there?"

"Yes, I think so."

Pushing her way through the crowd, she moved toward the building. It seemed to take forever, but finally they were able to scramble up the heavy iron bars of the railing.

Uhura frantically scanned the crowd. "Do you see him?"

"No."

Kirk realized that the air attack had ceased when a new sound began to ring in the air, the concerted marching of heavy, booted feet. Pushing down a frisson of terror, he shouted, "Spock!"

Uhura joined in. "Spock! Spock!"

A line of huge transport vehicles lumbered around the corner, and as he watched, uniformed troops came from the other direction and began herding the masses of people toward the vehicles. The people seemed almost relieved to find shelter from the devastation of the air attack, but Kirk knew better.

His heart leaping into his throat, he gasped, "Oh, my. Uhura, we have to go!"

"But Captain, we need to find Spock!"

"Spock can take care of himself, but if we don't leave, we'll be taken away and we'll never see him again. Go, Commander! Now!"

Taking one last quick look around the area, she reluctantly climbed down from her perch. The instant she hit the ground, Kirk grabbed her arm and dragged her away, and soon they were running for all they were worth with Trelane at their heels. Smoke streamed from the destroyed buildings, but they rushed toward the flames instead of away; the burning city was their sanctuary, for the troops surely couldn't be bothered with the few stragglers who were foolish enough not to flee the fires.

Just as the three of them slipped into the ruins, Kirk heard the first of the transport vehicles rumble away.

The genetic purge had begun.

...

Spock sat on the floor of the vehicle and ran his hand through his hair, verifying that the blow to his head had not actually broken the skin. Although he could hardly consider himself fortunate to have been stunned by the falling debris, he knew that it would have been disastrous had he begun bleeding. Many people of this era were receptive to the concept of intelligent life on other planets, but the period was also highly unstable, with suspicions and paranoia running high. Presented with an actual extraterrestrial, the decent, average citizens who shared this vehicle with him would react in an unpredictable manner, one that would most likely result in an unacceptable fate for the extraterrestrial in question.

At least Jim and Nyota had managed to flee the troops. Momentarily dazed, Spock had not been able to avoid being separated from them as the panic-stricken crowd swept him away. He had quickly regained his strength, but by then it was too late. Three burly soldiers overpowered him, forcing him into one of the vehicles. At the last moment, he had looked up to see Jim and Nyota jump down from their perch atop the fence and run, and even though the slamming of the door obscured his vision, he knew that they were safe.

Now it was up to him to devise a method of escape so he could rejoin them.

...

Holding her side, Uhura stumbled to a stop beside Kirk. They were both too breathless to speak at first, but finally he asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she gasped.

Trelane staggered up behind them. He had whimpered and complained throughout their entire flight, and she was already sick of him.

"You were running too fast!" he whined. "Next time, wait for me."

She raised an eyebrow at the look Kirk gave him, but instead of commenting, the captain gestured toward the remains of a nearby building. "Here, let's sit down by this wall. It looks sturdy enough that it won't fall over on us."

Trelane scowled. "But it's dirty down there."

Uhura slumped by the wall and covered her face. Trying to slow her racing heart, she said, "I've seen the history vids and read the accounts of the first strike, but this is more horrible than anything I could have imagined. Have you noticed that there's almost no one left? Not even any wounded. They're just all... gone."

Trelane perked up slightly. "Ah yes, my dear Sheba. You're so right. The historical reports didn't do it justice! You know, for a brief moment, I actually experienced terror. How exhilarating. How real."

Ignoring him, Kirk wiped the perspiration away from his eyes. "Colonel Green was experimenting with a very early prototype of the phaser. It might have been crude, but it was effective. In a heartbeat, he managed to obliterate New York City, Los Angeles, Toronto, Dallas, Fort Knox... After that, he held all of North America hostage to his reign of terror." He faced Trelane. "Explain to me why you can't get us out of this mess."

Trelane shrugged. "You expect so much of me, Captain. Remember that I'm only a beginner. Why, I think I did very well to accomplish this much."

"If you can't take us back, then what about your parents?"

Leaning close, Trelane whispered, "I ran away. They had so many rules-be nice to your pets, mind your manners, study your lessons. I decided that I just couldn't tolerate it for another moment. They're probably worried sick about me right now! They have no idea where I went."

"Then snap your fingers and take us to Spock."

"I'm too far from my power source. I'm afraid that I'm completely helpless, just like you." He sounded anything but regretful.

Kirk pressed his lips together, but finally turned away from Trelane. Everyone was silent for a long moment, and she could tell from Kirk's expression that he was worried about Spock, just as she was.

"I hope he can find us," she said.

"We'll give the troops time to leave, then we'll go back to where we last saw him. There are so few survivors left that it should be easy for us to locate each other as long as he's not..." Kirk looked away without completing his sentence.

"Dead? He's not dead, Captain," she said gently. "He's a little dazed, but he's alive and well. He's also very concerned about us."

"Really? Can you tell what happened to him?"

"No. I think that he was injured somehow, but it's not serious enough that he's impeded by it. I do believe that he's no longer in the city."

"Just who are you talking about?" asked Trelane impatiently. "Surely not that Spock fellow."

"Yes," Kirk snarled, finally expressing his frustration. "We're talking about that Spock fellow. Why the hell not?"

"Because you seem so worried about him. Why, he's not even human. The charming Sheba speaks as if you actually care about him."

"Damn it!" Uhura snapped. "My name is Nyota. Nyota Uhura. And of course we care about him! He's my husband, for God's sake, but even if he wasn't, we wouldn't think less of him just because he's not human." She stuck her finger in his face. "Your problem is that you have no feelings for anyone other than yourself. We're not like you, so you don't see us as beings who deserve decent treatment! Just sit there and shut up. If you can't help us, I don't want to hear another word from you."

"But my dear-"

"Shut up! I mean it."

Uhura glared at him for a moment, and when she turned back to Kirk, she saw that he was actually smiling for the first time since this all began.

He took a deep breath and became serious again. "Did they take Spock to an internment camp?"

"I don't think so. I'm not sure." Uhura concentrated. "But I know he's very uneasy about his situation."

"Can you tell him where we are? Tell him how he can find us?"

"Oh, Captain, it doesn't work that way. It's not like we have communicators implanted in our heads. I've learned to read him well enough to know when he's sleeping or when he's unwell, and to discern his general state of mind, but that's about it. Of course, he's better at reading me, but it's not like I can actually send him a message."

"Well, I didn't think so, but it was worth a try." He stood and surveyed his surroundings. "Our first order of business is survival. We're going to have to be extremely careful entering any buildings that are still standing, but we should be able to find some food. Also, if I remember my history lessons correctly, the date is October 12th and it'll get cool in the evenings. We'll need to look for blankets and shelter, too."

"Yes, sir."

Trelane didn't respond, so Kirk turned to him. "Mr. Trelane, as of this moment, you can either come with us and consider yourself under my command, or you can sit here by yourself and rot. It's your choice."

Trelane looked up balefully. "You are no fun at all, Captain. Very well, I'll play soldier with you, but I'm the one with the general's uniform. It's no fair that you get to be the boss."

Kirk shook his head with distaste before helping Uhura to her feet. She smiled briefly in thanks, then looked up at the heavens. Even though the smoke had begun to clear, the sky was not growing any brighter. Clearly, nightfall was not far away. She tried to take courage from her own confident words. Spock was alive and well, and would soon be on his way back from... wherever. Wherever he was.

As she fell into step beside Kirk, she said a quick, silent little prayer that they would remain safe-all of them-until they were reunited.

End chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

The Real Thing, chapter 2

Spock looked up, suddenly alert as the vehicle began to slow. No one else seemed to notice their change in progress. All around him, people continued to doze on the floor and in the seats of the vehicle: a few parents with their children on their laps, a few husbands with their arms protectively around their wives, and many, many individuals who had been separated from their families. They had all settled down once their long journey began, obviously hoping that they would soon be reunited with their loved ones. Of course, Spock knew what fate awaited these people. Very few would ever see their families again.

He discreetly slid closer to the door. As he waited to discover what might happen next, he watched a young woman gently smooth her son's hair and rest her cheek against the top of the boy's fair head. The mother's movements roused the boy to briefly remember the thumb inserted in his mouth, but soon he grew still again.

Dropping his eyes, Spock reminded himself that he must allow history to run its course. Kaiidth. What was, was. What was, must remain. When he detected an opportunity for escape, he must be certain that it was not a method others could follow. He must also ensure that he did not harm any of the soldiers, and it would be preferable that his own body not be left as evidence of alien life should his attempt fail. Of course, judging by the destructive capacity of the weapons of this era, that last concern was most likely insignificant.

The door parted a minute amount, revealing utter darkness outside. That in itself surprised him. Although he knew that night had fallen some time ago, he assumed they would stop at a location filled with bright lights and purposeful activity. Evidently they had not yet reached their destination. Very good. Murmured voices drifted in from outside, and he realized that whoever had opened the door was either conveying instructions or receiving them. At any rate, the person's attention was not on the occupants of the vehicle.

The voices ceased, and a single set of footsteps receded into the distance. Deciding that this was the chance for which he had been waiting, he stood and wrapped his fingers around the edge of the door. No doubt he could do this quietly, subduing the person outside with a well-placed neck pinch and slipping into the night, but that might encourage the other prisoners to follow suit. No, his purpose would be better served if he allowed the guard to make enough noise to draw attention. It might complicate his own exit, but the appearance of other guards would cause the occupants of this vehicle to reconsider any thoughts of leaving.

His course decided, he slid the door open with a fierce heave and leapt out onto the guard he knew would be waiting. The man bellowed loudly, and Spock threw him to the ground before dashing away from the vehicle. He had managed to take a good look at his surroundings in the instant before jumping, and he knew that they were on a wide, paved road with sparsely wooded terrain on either side. Once he reached the shelter of the trees, he was relatively certain he would be safe from pursuit, for from all indications there were not enough soldiers on these vehicles to justify a manhunt. Reaching the woods, however, would be more of a challenge. According to his best estimate, he must cover a good thirty-three-point-two meters before encountering the first tree.

"Stop! Stop, or we'll shoot!"

He ducked his head, altering his trajectory every few steps so that the soldiers could not predict his exact path. As expected, a red beam shot past his shoulder, flaring into flame against the leaves of the very tree toward which he was running. He veered away, sprinting instead toward a thicket of smaller bushes.

Another beam buzzed over his head, so he dove head-first over the bushes, rolled, and jumped back up onto his feet without pausing. This time, however, he remained crouched, scuttling into the underbrush without looking back. He could hear no sounds of pursuit, so he assumed that his theory had been correct; the soldiers possessed enough prisoners that they were unconcerned about a single escapee. He would put a sufficient amount of distance between himself and the road, and only then would he stop to obtain his bearings.

He had not been provided the opportunity to observe many details about the city, but he did remember seeing the sign over the subway entrance: Fiftieth Street. Perhaps in the absence of any further distractions, he could be back at the Fiftieth Street subway stop before too much more time had elapsed.

...

Stretching, Kirk rubbed his face, then filled his lungs with the brisk morning air. Although the smell of smoke still hung heavily all around them, it had already begun to recede in the face of the brisk October breeze. And as he gradually became more aware of his surroundings, he realized that he also smelled coffee.

He sat up on the narrow park bench and wrapped his blanket around his shoulders.

"Good morning, Captain."

"Morning, Uhura. What do you have there?"

She smiled up at him from her spot next to their modest fire. "Yesterday when we were rummaging around in that little store, I found these packets of 'instant coffee.' It's different, but I suppose that beggars can't be choosers."

"Very good, Commander." He accepted the chipped mug. "Where's Trelane? Last I saw, he was sleeping soundly."

She made an exasperated face. "I'm not sure. Shortly after I started my watch, he woke up to complain about the inconveniences of the human form he took."

"He might have refused to eat with us last night, but I imagine he'll change his tune pretty quickly."

"I hope he's starving. Anyway, after that he said he wanted to study the 'wonderful destruction' from yesterday. What an idiot."

"No kidding. Evidently he's forgotten how terrifying it really was."

"He has a conveniently selective memory."

"I'm sure he'll be back soon. I doubt we've gotten rid of him that easily."

She chuckled. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

He moved from the bench to the fireside. "We didn't see much of the city yesterday, so I want to explore a bit. Reconnoiter. Learn where we are and what's around us, broaden our territory and our options. Although we found food and blankets yesterday, we'll need more." He paused to sip his coffee. "How's Spock? Do you still think that he's far away?"

"Yes, although he's feeling better about things. He's still worried about us, but he's not as concerned about his own situation. I think that something changed last night. Every time I was awake, he was awake, which leads me to believe that he's on the move. It's pretty safe to assume that he was taken away by the soldiers, but that he escaped and is on his way back."

"I agree. Good. As soon as the area where we last saw him is safe, we'll set up camp there and wait for him. Maybe tomorrow. I don't want to chance it tonight."

"Yes, sir."

A buoyant voice interrupted them. "Good morning, good morning! What a glorious day. I'm a little disappointed in the level of activity, however. Do you think that we could go someplace where there's more action?"

Unable to keep the gruffness from his tone, Kirk said, "Help yourself."

"Captain, surely you would not send your troops to the enemy lines so frivolously-unprotected and alone. Tsk, tsk." Trelane flopped down on the ground beside the fire. "Not very military of you. Or sporting."

Kirk reached for a box of oat cereal. "Well, if you intend to stay with us, I don't want to hear anything about hunger or exhaustion. I guarantee that you're going to experience both of those if you don't eat and you don't sleep. It's too late for us to do anything about the sleep, but you're going to eat. Here."

An expression of repulsion on his face, Trelane drew back. "Surely you do not expect me to actually consume that. It's so common."

"I'm sorry that we don't have truffles and caviar. Take it."

Grudgingly accepting the box, Trelane pulled out a handful of cereal and stuffed it into his mouth. Kirk met Uhura's eyes and had to smile at her expression. He, himself, might be exasperated with Trelane, but she looked like she was ready to punch someone.

Trelane had better watch his step.

...

Spock cautiously approached a building. From the appearance of the structure and its environs, he assumed that it was a refueling station of some sort. He could detect no activity, so he also assumed that it had been abandoned. Although the sun had barely risen over the horizon and it was conceivable that the establishment was not yet open for business, he knew that the proprietor would not have left the door standing ajar if he had not departed-or been forced to depart-in a hurry yesterday.

A soft tone sounded when he crossed the threshold, and he froze. Nothing happened, however, so after a moment he resumed his forward motion. He had walked throughout the night and had grown quite hungry and thirsty. Although he possessed no currency to exchange for any of the goods here, he knew that the unfortunate owner of the business was not in a position to object if he helped himself.

A large refrigerated display case covered the back wall, so he went there first. Multitudes of brightly-colored containers lined the shelves, and he was somewhat overwhelmed by the variety of selection. Perhaps humans enjoyed such a wealth of unnatural colors and flavors in their choice of beverage, but he, himself, preferred the more basic. The orange hue of the substance labeled 'Gatorade,' for example, practically glowed, and he did not want to hazard an opinion as to the contents. He knew that 'gator' was slang for alligator, and while he sincerely doubted that the liquid actually had anything to do with alligators, he did not wish to find out. Ah. There. Water.

Opening a bottle, he took a long drink, then turned to see what he might use to carry additional bottles. A display in the corner held a number of items garishly labeled with a word he did not recognize in any Earth language-'Valvoline'-but hanging from the bottom of the rack was a duffel. That would do. He picked it up and carefully placed a number of bottles across the bottom.

Now he required food. He perused the shelves that lined the aisles and spotted some nuts and dried fruits. Choosing items with lightweight packaging, he nestled them into the duffel in a manner that would provide the most efficient use of his limited space. He continued down the aisle, grimacing slightly at an unsavory display of desiccated meat strips, and picked up some small packets of crackers accompanied by rubbery-looking cheese.

This duffel full, he debated filling another, but he finally decided that he would have no difficulty locating sustenance in the future. No doubt he would encounter other such establishments along the way, and at any rate, he could not help but experience some uneasiness over the knowledge that he was, in effect, stealing.

As he walked toward the door, however, he saw a basket of fresh fruit, and he decided that the owner would not begrudge his taking just a little more. After all, this fruit would perish soon. No need to allow it to go to waste. He stopped and squeezed three apples, four bananas, and an orange into his duffel, and placed an additional banana in each pocket. He selected a fourth apple that he intended to consume immediately, and as he rubbed it on his shirt, he happened to notice a display of paper maps. There, in the very front center, was one labeled 'East New Jersey and New York City.' Perfect.

He closed the door behind him and crossed the paved area that surrounded the building. Three small ground vehicles sat neatly parked by the side, but he ignored them. Last night, he had unsuccessfully attempted to start all five vehicles he had found abandoned by the side of the road, and he had discovered that none would run, their circuits fused. As he had expected. He knew from history that Colonel Green was quite forward-looking in his campaign, developing a weapon that would render all forms of mechanized transportation useless except for his own.

Just before he left the refueling area, he put the apple core in a rubbish bin and removed a banana from his pocket. A sign along the side of the road displayed an arrow with the label 'New York City, 215 miles,' but he already knew that he was headed in the correct direction. What he did not know was how he would proceed once he reached the city.

Taking a bite of the banana, he unfolded the map and headed back toward the sparse vegetation that lined the road.

...

Her eyes big, Uhura threaded her way through the rubble and studied the sights around her. She had gotten a good look at it yesterday evening, but somehow it seemed even worse this morning with the complete devastation shining brightly in the clear light of day. Colonel Green's phasers might not work as neatly as their twenty-third century counterparts, but they were certainly as effective. The city had been practically leveled, the top of every building gone. All that was left were the foundations and lower floors, and most of those were hardly more than debris.

Kirk turned over a sign that lay across the sidewalk. "Saint Patrick's Cathedral," he read.

Uhura looked at the pile of square-cut gray stones that lay before her. Shards of colored glass glittered like gems in the sunlight, and here and there she could spot fragments of a wooden pew. "I've seen pictures. It was beautiful."

Trelane picked up a charred book that had evidently been flung onto the street. "Look at this. What a curious artifact."

"Let me see that." Uhura took it from him. "It's a child's coloring book about the Virgin Mary. There's a signature on one of the pages-Jessica. Poor Jessica. I wonder what has become of her."

The three of them gazed at the church in silence. Uhura waited for Trelane to chime in with an irreverent or demeaning remark, but he remained quiet. Finally, she carefully placed the coloring book on the ground and turned away.

Shielding her eyes, she pointed at the building across the street, "If that was Saint Patrick's Cathedral, this must be Rockefeller Center."

Kirk whistled. "There's a fragment of a mural in the Smithsonian that supposedly came from this building. I wondered why there wasn't more of it, but looking at this, I guess I should be amazed that even such a small piece survived."

"I've heard that they put a skating rink here in the winter." She started forward, picking her way through the rubble. "And they always put a big Christmas tree... Wait a minute. What's that?"

Increasing her pace, she frowned as she tried to figure out what she saw. It was large, but she couldn't tell if it was a twisted piece of metal, or...

A smile spreading across her face, she exclaimed, "Oh, look! It's Atlas!"

Kirk jogged past, jumping carefully over the debris that littered the ground until he came to a halt directly beneath the sculpture. "It sure is. Incredible! It hasn't changed a bit. When I was a boy, my mother brought us here. I remember chasing my brother around it."

Shaking her head, Uhura said, "It's so strange to see it like this, in the middle of all this concrete and steel. Just last week, I was watching a vid report about Rockefeller Park. A caretaker was digging up a flowerbed, right here where this slab of broken cement is, and he found a time capsule that some local schoolchildren had buried way back in 1999 to commemorate the year 2000. Of course, everyone had forgotten about it, but he opened it up and found all sorts of treasures-letters, drawings, little toys, even a girl's soccer trophy."

"Silly books, ice skating rinks," said Trelane. "How trivial. Let's see more of the city. I've had enough of this."

Uhura looked up to see Kirk scowl before turning his back to the statue.

"As much as I hate to agree with Trelane, he's right that we need to move on. We have a lot of ground to cover, Commander."

"Yes, sir. Let's go."

They fell silent as they started moving again, and Uhura imagined what this area would be like in another two hundred years. Grassy fields, flowerbeds... She had never been to Rockefeller Park, but she would have to ensure that she and Spock came here someday and watched the children play. They could walk along the paths and admire the fountains, and think of the resilience of the human spirit.

She wouldn't even consider the possibility that they might never have the chance.

"Uhura, take a look at this. It was obviously a retail store, but I can't tell what sort of goods they sold."

She brought herself back to the moment and found that Kirk was peering through the window of a small building. Although the top floors were missing from the structure, the first floor seemed mostly intact, glass windows and all. She stepped over a pile of bricks and cupped her hands over her eyes, trying to shut out the brightness so she could see into the dark interior.

"It looks like a clothing store."

"That's what I thought, too. We could use coats, and I'll bet that Spock needs one, too. I'm going in to see what I can find."

"Be careful, Captain. It doesn't look very sturdy."

"I know. You stand here so I can toss things to you. I'll grab all I can quickly, and we'll sort through it outside."

"That sounds good. How are you going to get in?"

"Like this."

Grinning like a little boy, he picked up a brick and hefted it through the window with a resounding crash. There were a number of heavy iron bars in the way, but he and Uhura tugged on them, then dodged the already-loose bricks that fell to the pavement when the bars gave way.

He climbed in, and soon she was catching coats, sweaters, hats... even gloves and earmuffs. She had to smile at the strange variety of items he pitched her way. An army couldn't use this much stuff if it camped at Valley Forge for the winter. And it would certainly be a well-dressed army, for even at the most cursory glance she could see that it was all of the finest quality.

"Captain? This looks like enough. Surely we can find what we need among all of this."

"Hang on. I see some boots in the back-"

Suddenly, a chunk of plaster fell to the floor right in front of her, and she looked up to see cracks spreading across the ceiling, accompanied by a grinding, crunching noise.

"Captain! Get out! Now!"

Kirk halted and looked up over his shoulder, and then turned and ran for the window. Plaster crumbled down everywhere, filling the air with a thick, choking powder. Although Uhura could hear Kirk coughing as he grew nearer, she could hardly see him.

With a huge groan, the bricks came down all around her, but somehow they miraculously missed hitting her. When she squinted through the dust, however, she saw Kirk drop to his knees, staggered by a beam that had fallen from the ceiling.

He was barely more than an arm's-length away from her. Stepping over the windowsill, she cried, "Captain! Take my hand."

Kirk looked up, and she could see a stream of blood trickle down his forehead. He understood, though, and an instant later she felt his strong fingers wrap around her own.

"What is it? What's happening?"

She glanced over her shoulder to see Trelane looking through the window, a silly knit hat on his head and a scarf around his neck. Suddenly angry at him for nothing more than his ridiculous appearance, she extended her other hand and yelled, "Pull me out of here! Captain Kirk is trapped, and I'm not strong enough to do this by myself."

"Oh, goody. Do I get to be the hero?"

"Just do it!"

She shook her fingers at him, and finally he leaned forward and grasped her hand gingerly. She didn't give him time to change his mind, gripping him so tightly that he whimpered in protest. She looked back to see that Kirk had managed to turn his body so that he could slide out from under the beam.

"Now!" he shouted.

She felt as if she were being pulled in two, with Trelane tugging on one side and Kirk on the other, but with a mighty heave, Kirk pushed the beam off his back and stumbled forward. She fell against the window and heard Trelane cry out when he hit the pavement. Aware that Kirk was right behind her, she clambered out and ran.

They weren't five meters away when the entire building collapsed. They stumbled a few more meters and stopped, their hands on their knees as they tried to catch their breath.

"Are you all right?" Kirk gasped.

"Yes." She nodded and swallowed. "How about you?"

"My shoulder is going to hurt like hell, but I'm okay."

"Isn't anyone going to ask about me?" Trelane whined plaintively.

She smiled, straightening. "Okay, Mister Hero. How are you?"

"My fingers hurt where you squeezed them, and my bum hurts where I landed on the sidewalk. I lost my hat, too."

"We'll find you a new one." Kirk headed back to the clothing, which lay half-buried on the sidewalk. "Thanks for the help. Both of you. Now, let's see if our booty was worth that little escapade."

Wiping the plaster dust from her face, Uhura followed him back and applied herself to sorting through the pile of garments.

End chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

The Real Thing, chapter 3

Standing at the intersection of two roads, Spock unfolded his map. Although he had devoted a great deal of attention to determining the optimum route and committing it to memory, he had learned that reality did not always coincide with his expectations. It was an extremely inefficient way to travel. However, he knew that he had no choice but to remain flexible, adapting when necessary and avoiding the main roads wherever he could. At any rate, none of his adjustments had caused him to revise his plans. Although he had stopped for a short period last night, he was quite pleased with his progress and estimated that he would reach his destination during the mid-morning hours in two days.

That is, if he could determine which direction to choose now.

His brows drawn together, he studied the two unmarked roads that branched before him. Shortly before the sun had come up this morning, he had begun to pass through residential areas, and now the houses were continuous. The modest dwellings lined the streets, each house nearly identical to its neighbor, each street indistinguishable from the next, each block blurring into another. Although he hesitated to admit to the sensation, walking through these deserted neighborhoods was almost eerie. It was definitely sobering.

As he passed through first one neighborhood and then the next, the only sign of life he found was the occasional dog that rushed out at him, protecting a home that in many cases no longer existed. The level of destruction had increased in direct correlation to his proximity to the city. What had Colonel Green hoped to accomplish in removing all of the people who lived in this area? Terror? Intimidation? The ability to claim that he had obliterated an entire segment of a population? These people had clearly been extracted from their homes with no advance notice, for he found example after example of a life abruptly disrupted-toys in the yard, water spraying on a lawn, automobile doors left open, even a baby stroller abandoned in the middle of the street.

A flash of movement caught his eye, and he turned toward the dilapidated remains of a brick house just as someone darted around a crumbling wall. He raised an eyebrow, unable to deny his relief at finding another sentient being just when he had come to conclusion that no one was left. Quickly refolding his map, he trotted across the street.

"Excuse me!" He waved. "I require assistance-"

Suddenly, a loud report shattered the silence, and he felt something ruffle his hair. He stopped in his tracks, but before he could react further, a second shot threw grit up from the asphalt by his feet, causing him to stumble. Quickly regaining his balance, he spun on his heel and dashed down the street as fast as he could.

If he had chosen the wrong route, he would deal with it later.

...

"Well. Home sweet home."

Kirk grinned at Uhura's wry statement as he looked over their crude campsite at the edge of the Fiftieth Street plaza. They'd managed to salvage a metal trash bin that had been sheared off in the middle, and they had filled it with scraps of wood for use in building a fire tonight. Their supplies-blankets, a metal pan for heating water, a couple of mugs, assorted foodstuffs-sat nestled under the plastic hamper that they had used to haul their collection. Now turned upside-down, the hamper served as a convenient seat, although they had learned the hard way that it could only support one of them at a time, and only if that one person was careful not to shift his or her weight suddenly.

They had also retrieved several large sheets of plywood that could be used to build a shelter, even though they didn't intend to do so right away; since they planned to stay in this spot only until Spock arrived, they needed to remain mobile. This location was much too exposed, and uncomfortable to boot. Eventually they'd find a nice, soft grassy spot that was hidden away from casual view.

Kirk dragged a cement block closer to the hamper and sat down. "Hauling those pieces of wood over here made me hungry. Let's see what we have to eat."

Uhura pulled out a ratty cloth bag and opened it. "Let's see. We have sardines, a box of granola bars, two bags of raisins, assorted canned fruits and vegetables, and a loaf of very smashed bread. I'm afraid it's not much of a selection."

Reaching for a can of sardines, Kirk shook his head. "And it's only going to get worse. Tomorrow I want to find a place where we can hoard supplies. It wouldn't be practical to drag them around with us, but maybe we can hide them away for future use."

"Good idea." Uhura held the bag toward Trelane. "What do you want?"

Pushing out his lower lip, Trelane said, "We don't have any more peanut butter? It's no fair. That was our store, and those people should have stayed away."

"I knew we couldn't keep that little grocery a secret forever. Almost all the other food sources were completely destroyed. It was just luck we came across it before anyone else did." Kirk shrugged. "In a situation like this, it's every man for himself."

Uhura unwrapped a granola bar. "I know, but there's bound to be a store or two up closer to the residential areas. That Fifth Avenue group should have gone north instead of coming down here."

"Maybe they were forced in this direction. The competition is already starting to get fierce, and it's possible that there are some pretty aggressive groups living up around Central Park. After all, that's prime real estate-comfortable grassy fields, plenty of homes to be plundered, the zoo."

Laughing, Uhura exclaimed, "What, do you think that someone is eating turtle soup right now? Ostrich steaks? A zebra sandwich? What a horrible thought."

"That is positively disgusting." Trelane smiled. "Do you think that we could try those things?"

"No! We'd have to be a lot more desperate than we... are now..."

Seized by a coughing fit, Uhura turned her head, and the smile faded from Kirk's face. He'd noticed that she was sniffling earlier, but he'd refrained from commenting. Her symptoms were growing worse, though, so he finally decided that he'd better speak up.

"Commander? Are you all right?"

"Yes." She nodded, her eyes closed. "It's just a little head cold."

"Why didn't you say something before?"

"I kept hoping it would go away. My throat was scratchy yesterday, but I thought that it was just irritated from the smoke and the plaster dust. It's nothing. Really."

"Okay," Kirk said skeptically. "But let me know if you start feeling worse."

"Yes, sir. I'm sure I'll be fine. Just remind me to find a box of tissues the next time we loot a store."

"Will do."

Trelane's agitated voice interrupted them. "Hey! Give that back!"

Jumping to his feet, Kirk saw someone running away from their campsite. "What happened?"

Trelane pointed. "That man stole my hat! Go get it back!"

"No. It's not that important."

"But-"

"I said no. It's not worth the risk. He could be trying to draw us away. We have extra hats."

"But they're not the same."

"They'll keep your head warm. End of discussion." He sat back down on the concrete block. "We're going to have to be more careful from now on. People are starting to get reckless."

"Agreed." Uhura took a deep breath. "I hope that Spock gets here soon. I'm worried about him. He's by himself, and if he's walking, he has to stop and rest every now and then."

Kirk didn't comment at first, for he'd had the same concern. Finally, he said, "He's experienced. He won't let anyone sneak up on him."

She looked down at her granola bar, and Kirk could guess what she was thinking. They were experienced too, but someone had just sneaked up on them. All she said, though, was, "Yes. Of course."

He couldn't do anything but nod, but a moment later he looked across the plaza and wished that Spock would hurry up and get here. Soon.

...

Slowing, Spock looked back over his shoulder. Evidently no one had pursued him, and he realized from the sign dangling off a nearby post that he had inadvertently chosen the correct road. It would appear that random factors had operated in his favor. He nodded and turned forward again, but immediately tensed at what he saw.

A group of two men and a woman bore down the street in his direction. Their faces contorted with rage, they brandished garden implements and appeared to have no intention of halting their murderous approach. He had no choice but to stand his ground. He certainly could not go back, and they prevented him from moving forward.

Holding out his hands, he said, "I am unarmed. I only wish to pass."

One man stepped in front of the others. "Go away! We have nothing you want. Go back to where you belong!"

"That is what I am attempting to do. I must find my wife and my friends."

The man lowered his hoe. His tone changing from angry to mournful, he said, "Your wife? She's gone. They're all gone. Everyone."

"She is not. I must rejoin her."

Not seeming to hear, the man's eyes became glazed and distant. "Gone. I was working in the basement and they didn't find me. They took my wife and they took my children." His voice broke. "And now they try to get into my home, to take my things... It's all I have..."

Spock carefully moved closer. The man seemed to have retreated to a world that did not include anyone else, but his two companions were still lucid. Addressing a man who held a hatchet, Spock asked, "What does he mean when he states that 'they' try to get into his home? He is not referring to the soldiers, is he?"

"The gangs," the man with the hatchet said warily. "He's talking about the gangs. The gangs, and the loners. Haven't you seen them?"

"No. Until just moments ago, I saw no one."

"They'll kill you for the shoes on your feet. They're left behind, just like us, but they live to create havoc. They're starting to come from the city. The pickings are too slim there, so they're branching out. You have to be fierce, to protect what's yours, or they'll take it and spoil it. Destroy it."

Spock frowned. He had known that there would be survivors, but he envisioned the remaining people as banding together, working for the common good rather than furthering the chaos. Yesterday he had detected that Nyota was exceedingly frightened about something. It had happened quickly and afterwards she was fine, so he had not allowed himself to dwell on it, but now it flew back to the forefront of his thoughts. Could she have been confronted by one of these gangs? Could they have attempted to harm her?

Straightening, he stated, "You must understand that I am going to walk onward, whether you want me to do so or not. I caution you that in a hand-to-hand battle, you will not win. I do not wish to hurt you, but if that is the only way I can move past you, so be it. The choice is yours."

He held the man's eyes for a moment, and then looked at the other two people. While it seemed that this man was still willing to fight, the original spokesman was dazed and uncommunicative, and the woman appeared uncertain. Spock squared his shoulders and started down the road.

They watched him pass but did not challenge him again, so he increased his pace toward the city.

...

Rubbing his eyes, Kirk shifted on his uncomfortable seat and tried to concentrate. He knew he couldn't solve any of their problems now—at the very least, they needed to have Spock with them before they tried to return to their own time-but the intellectual exercise might help keep him awake. He only had another twenty minutes on his shift, but those twenty minutes would seem like hours during this long, dark, silent time of the night. Although they had barely been here two days, he already felt the strain of their constant, day-and-night vigilance. And he could tell by the circles under Uhura's eyes that she fared no better. Add to that their worry over Spock... Well, they'd just do what they had to do to get through this and rest later.

So what were their options toward getting back? Trelane couldn't help them, and evidently they couldn't expect any help from his parents, either. To return under their own steam, they would have to find a warp-capable ship. Not feasible. So the best option would be to bring someone from the future back in time to rescue them. But how-

He froze, his eyes on the shadows. Someone was watching him. He couldn't make out the person's features, but there was definitely someone standing in the alley.

"Commander." He reached over and gently shook her shoulder. "Commander Uhura, wake up."

She groggily pushed herself up on her elbows. "Time for my shift?"

"Not quite. But we have a guest. An unwelcome one."

She quickly sat beside him. "Where? I don't see anybody."

"Over to the left. In the shadows. I can't tell if it's a man or a woman, or even if it's a threat, but I want you awake just in case."

"Yes, sir."

"Let's go on about our business." Not taking his eyes off the person, he said, "Do you have any ideas about how we can get back home?"

"Uh. Sorry. Just a minute. Cobwebs in my brain." She paused to rub her face, then took a deep breath. "These ships aren't powerful enough to use the sun to throw us forward in time, are they?"

"No. We can't return to the future ourselves, which means that someone from the future will have to come back for us."

"I'm sure they're already looking for us, but it'll be like finding a needle in a haystack. Even assuming they've deduced that we were taken back in time, it'll be next to impossible for them to locate us."

"Exactly. We need to get a message to Scotty. What forms of communication are in use right now?"

She ticked them off on her fingers. "Radio, microwave, paper books and periodicals, television. Networked computers. Early holographic imaging. Reusable hard media such as computer micro-disks."

"Could we send a radio message?"

"We could, Captain, but there's so much garbage being transmitted from Earth at this time that it's bound to get lost."

"It wouldn't be practical to put a note in a book or magazine. Even if we wrote Scotty's name on it, we'd have the same problem. It would probably get lost before our time."

"Unless..." A slow grin spread across her face. "Unless we make sure it's hidden away until then."

"For all these years? How..." Realization dawning, he sat back and laughed. "The time capsule!"

"Exactly. It's perfect!"

"It's decided, then. When Spock gets back, we'll put a note in the time capsule." He covered a yawn as he glanced toward the alley. "It appears that our friend is gone."

"Why don't you go ahead and get some sleep, Captain? It's time for my watch, anyway. I'll wake you up if I see anyone again."

"All right. See you in four hours."

He eased himself down to the ground, made himself as comfortable as possible, and closed his eyes. As exhausted as he was, though, he knew that he wouldn't get to sleep right away, or if he did, he'd dream about vague figures watching from the shadows, time capsules, and absent Vulcans.

...

The moon throwing his shadow across the lawn, Spock approached the ruins of a home. He had decided that he should stop for a short period of rest, and this place appeared as satisfactory as any. He peered around a portion of a wall that remained standing. Very good. Not only was no one present, but a well-padded sofa was hidden by the wall. He would rest in comfort tonight.

Carefully stowing his duffel where an errant dog could not reach it, he stretched out on the sofa. He had no sooner closed his eyes, however, when he heard the sound of a motor. He immediately rolled off and crawled to the edge of the wall to investigate.

Suddenly, the rubble behind him was thrown into sharp relief as a bright light swept across the area. He ducked back in and considered what he had seen: soldiers approaching quickly in a jeep with a spotlight, and behind them, more soldiers on foot. No doubt they were searching for stragglers and survivors.

Harsh voices reached his ears as he searched wildly for an escape route. The neighboring structures were almost leveled, and he would be exposed were he to attempt flight. Therefore, he must remain here. Scrambling back, he crouched next to the sofa and turned it over, and squeezed underneath.

Four point eight seconds later, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps. Three... no, four men. Smaller lights flickered across the debris-strewn floor, and he surmised that they held flashlights. A boot-shod foot moved across his line of vision, and he slowly slid a pillow into the crevice created by the arm of the sofa. And although he knew that such an action was illogical, he also held his breath.

"See anybody, Mort?" The voice was rough and impatient.

"Hang on a minute. This looks like a closet."

A grunt was followed by the creak of a protesting door as the soldier forced the closet open. An instant later, a disturbing rumble filled the air, and Spock braced himself-obviously, the soldier's actions had unsettled the remainder of the wall. The sofa shuddered as rubble covered it, but remarkably it did not collapse. Evidently the furniture of this time was better constructed than he thought. Dust billowed everywhere, and he had to bury his face in a pillow to suppress a sneeze.

"Okay, all clear."

Relaxing as the footsteps rapidly receded, he tugged on the pillow until he could see out from under the sofa. All he found was rubble, but the air had already begun to clear, so evidently the debris was not packed solidly around him. Perhaps his best alternative would be to remain here until he could be certain that the soldiers had all left the area.

He dragged the pillow under his head and shifted his weight until he was more comfortable, and placed himself into a light meditative state.

End chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4

The Real Thing, chapter 4

The setting sun warm on his back, Spock continued his resolute march.

Early this morning, the residential areas had given way to a vast industrial wasteland, and while he had been fascinated at first by such a blatant disregard for environmental preservation, the novelty had long ceased. Exactly sixty-five hours had passed since his original escape from the soldiers, and except for the two hours rest he allotted himself each night, he had walked non-stop throughout that entire period. He did not allow himself to dwell on the weariness of his legs, however, or the blisters caused by the shoes Trelane had given him; instead, he thought of the fact that each step brought him that much closer to the city.

...

Uhura gazed unseeingly into their fire, her mind still churning around what had happened late this afternoon. Kirk had assigned the responsibility of guarding their campsite to Trelane, and the two of them had gone in search of more food. They had both felt very uneasy about leaving Trelane in charge, but they hadn't had any choice. So, off they had gone to the sound of Trelane's never-ending complaints.

It had actually gone very well. They found a few more supplies, and no one bothered Trelane in the slightest. On the way back, however, she and Kirk had witnessed something that would stay with her for the rest of her life. It had been awful, absolutely awful, but there was nothing they could do about it.

That poor woman. Had those men killed her for the pitiful loaf of bread she held? Had they dragged her away to an even worse fate? And what about her two children? What would become of them? How many more nights would they live, cold and scared and alone? It had broken Uhura's heart to walk away, but of course she had known as soon as she started toward them that she couldn't complete the gesture. Kirk hadn't even had to remind her of the risk of altering history. He'd simply rested his fingers on her arm, and she'd turned away, walking off without another look back.

But the woman's screams and the cries of her children would ring in her ears forever.

She darted a glance at Kirk, who had said hardly three words since. His expression hard, he had spoken so gruffly to Trelane upon their return that the poor man had sulked for the rest of the evening, finally wrapping himself in a blanket and falling asleep. And now, Kirk stared into the fire and looked sad. Sad, and lost.

She finally couldn't stand it any longer. "I wonder what happened to that woman."

"Whatever happened, it was supposed to happen," he murmured without moving.

"I know."

She picked up a stick and poked the fire. The flames crackled and popped, and Kirk was quiet for so long that she almost didn't realize it when he started speaking again.

"Did Spock ever tell you about the time we followed McCoy through the Guardian of Forever?"

"No, not really. I know that you went back to the twentieth century on Earth and stopped Dr. McCoy from changing history, but that's about it."

He pressed his lips together, and she realized that she'd seen this afternoon's hard expression before. It had been on his face when he returned from the Guardian of Forever all those years ago. She sat silently and waited for him to continue.

Finally, he said, "We met a woman there who thought that she could change the world, a little piece at a time. She took us under her wing, giving us jobs and a roof over our heads when we had nothing. She was..." He held his hands out as he searched for the word. "...beautiful. Not just on the outside, but on the inside, too, the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

She smiled. "She sounds like quite a person. I wish I could have met her."

He smiled back. "You would have liked her."

Holding his eyes, she asked the question she knew had to be asked. "What became of her?"

His smile vanished as he looked down at his hands. "Eventually, people started listening to her. Her words of peace spread so far that she prevented an entire world from going to war. One woman, with a vision, and she changed the world. Except World War II was supposed to happen. Mankind had to learn how awesomely destructive the atomic bomb was. Without War World II, the future of Earth was doomed. And she was the woman responsible."

Uhura swallowed, stunned by the juxtaposition of pride, love, and agony in his voice. "How did you set history right again?" she whispered.

"I let her die. When she stepped in front of an automobile, I stopped McCoy from saving her, and I let her die."

"Oh. How awful. I'm so sorry, Captain. Truly. I can see that you loved her very much. Do you think about her often?"

"Not so much anymore. Somehow, time heals those wounds."

She looked across the dark plaza, wishing that Spock would step out of the shadows. What would it be like to watch, and wait, forever? To know that the person you loved would never come toward you again with warmth in his expression? Would never look at you, would never speak to you? Of course, she knew the answers to all those questions. She knew them all too well.

"Does it really?" she said. "You tell me that time has healed your wounds, but I hear such pain in your voice. I'm not convinced."

"You're too perceptive. I suppose that the incident this afternoon may have reopened those old wounds a little." He paused. "And you know, you're not the only perceptive person around here. You're thinking about Spock, aren't you? How you felt when he died."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to compare my pain to yours. After all, I got him back. I'm being selfish."

"It's okay to be selfish. Believe me, I'm glad you got him back, too. Can I ask a personal question?"

"Sure."

"What was it like? To get him back."

"It was almost dreamlike. After the refusion, I remember watching my hand reach out and touch him, as if it were just some disembodied hand that didn't even belong to me. He didn't have a clue who I was, but I didn't care. I never wanted to let go. And when he finally did remember me, it seemed no more real. It happened during that long night on the Bird of Prey when we lost Pavel. That whole night was surreal, anyway, and even now it would be easy to think that I'd just dreamed the entire thing."

He nodded. "When we were on Genesis, things happened so fast that I couldn't keep up, mentally. Physically, I did what needed to be done, but the fact that we'd gone there to retrieve his dead body and instead found a living, breathing being hadn't even registered. At first, he was a boy, and by the time he aged to the point that I recognized him, he was just a limp body on the ground. When it was time to leave, I pulled him to his feet and supported his weight, and the realization almost staggered me. It was Spock. Spock! Warm and alive. My God, I'd watched him die, and there he was, leaning against me."

She wrapped her hands around her knees. "Some nights, I roll over in bed and look at him while he sleeps. It's been almost five years, but I still can't believe that I didn't lose him forever." Chuckling, she said, "He catches me every now and then, but he's always a good sport."

"I think that he'd let you get away with anything, Uhura. He's obviously crazy about you."

She nodded. "I'm a lucky woman."

"You're both lucky. I've never seen him so content. I have to admit that sometimes I'm a little envious. I can't help but wonder what my life would be like if I'd ever found something as real as what you two have."

She looked over at Trelane's still form as she considered her next words. "Captain, excuse me if I step out of line, but I, uh, always noticed that you never lacked for women. Wasn't there anyone who made you stop and think, 'This is someone with whom I could spend the rest of my life?'"

Shrugging lightly, he said, "Sure, I thought that a couple of times. I even tried to settle down with someone once, but it was a disaster."

"Carol Marcus?"

"How did you know?"

"Just a lucky guess." She paused. "Okay, to be honest, I can't imagine that you would have walked away easily from your son."

"Actually, I never knew I had a son. Not until Genesis."

"What? You had a child with her, and she didn't tell you?"

"Correct," he said bitterly. "Shortly after we split up, she told me that she was pregnant but that the child wasn't mine. She told me to stay away, and it wasn't too hard at that point to comply. I didn't realize that she was keeping me away from my son, rather than her."

"That's terrible!"

"Yes, but you want to know what else is terrible? I think I must have always known. When I finally came face to face with him, I immediately saw myself in his features, and it didn't even surprise me. Stunned me, yes, but it didn't surprise me. I was too much of a coward to see the truth sooner, and for that I paid a horrible price. I never really knew him. My son."

"He was a wonderful young man, strong and smart. I'm so sorry that you lost those precious years, Captain, not just the ones in the past but the ones that were yet to come. If there's anything as awful as losing a child, it's losing the promise of a child. The life that might have been."

He exhaled slowly. "After he was gone, I realized that everything I've accomplished in my life was nothing next to the accomplishment of raising a son like that."

She dropped her eyes and began to pick at the frayed bark on the end of the stick. "Don't I know it. I would have loved to have children, but I guess it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe if we'd started a little sooner. Oh well. No need to cry over spilled milk."

"I don't mean to be intrusive, but it seems to me that it's not too late."

She looked up. "That it's not too late to try? That's what we'd hoped, too, but when we talked to the doctors, we discovered that it would have required some pretty aggressive medical intervention with no guarantees. It was just too much. Besides, we have Saavik, and hopefully she'll give us grandchildren someday." She abruptly threw the stick into the fire, dismissing her somber mood with a grin. "And that's what they'll be, no matter how many times Spock reminds me otherwise."

"You two would have made great parents."

"Wouldn't we? With my looks and his brains..."

Kirk laughed, then grew serious again. "It's funny sometimes, to think about how things turn out. We were once all nothing more than strangers, getting to know each other and learning to work as a team. Now look at us-still friends, still together, you and Spock married... Where did the years go?"

"I know what you mean. It seems like just yesterday I was a girl, dreaming about what I'd do someday, who I'd marry and what I would be. Do you remember those days? Telling people that when you grew up, you were going to be a veterinarian or a vid star or the President of the Federation. And worrying about romance! I wish I'd devoted half the energy to my studies as I did to those wonderful, painful, to-die-for crushes."

"Oh, yes. I remember." He leaned forward, smiling softly as he stared into the fire. "Denise Hansen. I was eleven years old, and she was the most incredible thing I'd ever seen. She had long, blonde hair that hung down to her waist, and I sat next to her in class. I tried all the usual tricks to get her attention-spitballs, cutting up in class, stealing her padd-but she refused to see my charm. I thought it would kill me."

She raised both eyebrows. "I'm sure that's not how the story ends."

"Nope. One day, we had a school dance. You know the type. Boys on one side of the gym, girls on the other."

"So you asked her to dance?"

"No, I danced with her best friend and completely ignored her. The next day, she followed me to the bus stop and asked if I'd go to the vid matinee with her on Saturday. I said yes, so on Saturday afternoon her mother chauffeured us there. It was wonderful. I held her hand in the dark, and I thought I'd died and gone to heaven."

"What a Romeo! Did your romance last very long?"

He chuckled. "No. The next Monday at school, she pretended she didn't know me. But that's all right. For one brief moment, she was my girlfriend."

"Those first romances are always so sweet and innocent. I remember my first real crush as if it happened only yesterday."

"Tell me about it."

"School was out for the summer, and my friends and I were going to the pool every day. I'll never forget. I had just bought a black swimsuit with little gold spots on it, and I thought that I was so sexy, this flat-chested twelve-year-old girl with long legs and braids."

"I'm sure that to the gawky twelve-year-old boys with long legs and pimples, you _were_."

She laughed. "Anyway, one afternoon a new boy came to the pool. I fell in love at first sight and from that point forward dedicated myself to getting to know him. Of course, I was much too shy to actually go up and talk to him, so I had to do it via subterfuge. I staked out the snack bar, asked my friends to tell me who he was talking to, that sort of thing. One day I was sitting by the pool-miserable from the heat but not about to get wet and mess up my hair-and he walked by and smiled at me. He didn't even say a word, but he smiled at me! I scampered over to tell my girlfriends and absolutely floated through the rest of the afternoon."

"What happened after that?"

"More of the same for days. I waited, he walked by. He smiled, I giggled. Finally, one day he sat down beside me and asked me if I wanted to get a soda with him. Just like you, I was in heaven. He was every bit as wonderful as I knew he would be. We sat at the snack bar and talked all afternoon, and I knew that I'd found my one true love. But the course of true love never runs smooth, and when I discovered that he was visiting his grandmother and had to leave the next day, my heart was broken."

"Until the next boy smiled at you from across the pool."

"Exactly."

Laughing, she shook her head, but before she could continue, a tiny little yawn sneaked up on her. She covered her mouth. "Excuse me. I guess that it must be getting pretty late."

He stretched. "It is, and we need to sleep. I'll take the first watch."

"All right." She picked up an armful of blankets and arranged a pallet on one of the big sheets of wood. "See you in two hours."

"Good night."

"Good night, Captain."

Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore the little knothole that was evidently right under her ribs. Before she even had time to squirm around in search of a better spot, though, she drifted away into blackness.

...

Spock slowed, peering into the pitch darkness ahead. He listened very carefully for signs of life, but he could detect none. That did not prove that there _was_ no life; it merely proved that there was no life that made noise at the moment. But no matter. It would not benefit him to wait until daylight, for this route would be dark then as well. He resumed his pace, walking into the huge, gaping cavern that yawned before him.

The Lincoln Tunnel.

End chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

The Real Thing, chapter 5

Huddled on her hamper-bench, Uhura picked up the box of tissues and studied the picture that adorned it. Although her only illumination was their fire, she could pick out the stylized ivy and flowers, and the perky bird that peeked through the leaves. Funny that after Trelane's hat was stolen, this would be the most colorful item in their little camp. She pulled out a handful of tissues and placed the box back on the ground.

She scanned the area, but if anything, her visibility seemed even more limited than before. A heavy fog had rolled in during the night, and although it had to be nearing daybreak, she still felt as if the three of them were confined in a little box. It gave her the creeps to be cut off from the rest of the universe like this. Except for the soft snores of the two sleeping men, she had been left alone with only the blurry shadows and her own imagination to keep her company. She'd heard all sorts of bumps and pops throughout the night, and during those long, sleep-deprived hours, it was hard to know if something was out there or if it was only her mind, playing tricks.

Just like now. She frowned slightly, thinking that she heard something from the other side of the square. The fog muffled it, but it almost sounded like footsteps. Or maybe it was condensed moisture dripping off a nearby building. Or maybe nothing. No... It was definitely something, and it was getting louder. She tensed, reaching for the two-by-four that served as their crude weapon.

There. Someone moving in the fog, coming this way. Her heart hammered as she tightened her fingers around the board. It was a man, walking calmly, his movements unhurried. It was...

Her voice scarcely a breath, she whispered, "Spock."

Releasing the board, she stepped quietly over Trelane and trotted across the plaza in his direction. He looked wonderful-grubby and rumpled, with a shadow across his face from both fatigue and worn-off beard suppresser-but wonderful just the same. His step had slowed as he watched her move in his direction, and now he stood, simply waiting.

Reaching him, she slid her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close. She couldn't speak, so overwhelmed by relief that her voice caught in her throat. Words weren't necessary, however, and she could tell from the pressure of his arms around her back that he was every bit as glad to be here as she was to have him.

She drew back to look into his face. "Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?" she asked in a choked voice.

The corner of his mouth turned up. "Actually, it is a banana, but I am very pleased to see you. Is everyone well?"

"Yes, we're all fine."

His expression softened as he bent to kiss her, but at the last moment she turned her face away.

"Sorry. I don't want you to catch my germs."

Frowning, he placed his hand on the side of her face. "You said that you were well."

"It's nothing. Just a little cold." She smiled and wrinkled her nose. "Phew. You smell like a sewer."

"I had to walk through New Jersey. You would be amazed at the quantity of noxious chemicals suspended in the air."

"Oh well, I doubt that we smell much better. Let's go sit down. You look worn out."

He started toward the campsite. "The thought of sitting down is very appealing."

The two of them crept around the sleeping bodies and found seats by the fire. Uhura had a million questions, but when she turned to look at him, she saw that he could hardly sit upright for exhaustion.

Meeting her gaze apologetically, he whispered, "I want to hear a description of your past four days, but perhaps I could recline as we talk. My muscles are rather weary."

"Of course." She reached under the hamper. "Here are some blankets. We have a coat for you, too. I know that you have to be freezing."

"Thank you."

Finding a space by the fire, he wrapped himself in the blankets and stretched out on his side, his head on the folded-up coat.

She sat on the ground beside him. "Did the soldiers take you?"

"Yes. I was struck in the temple by falling debris, and although it caused no real damage, it dazed me long enough that I was swept away by the crowd. The soldiers overpowered me and forced me into a large vehicle. I was able to escape before we reached our destination, most certainly an internment camp. I have been walking ever since."

She rested her hand on his shoulder. "I was so worried about you. I knew you weren't in dire straits, but it still scared me that you had been separated from the rest of us."

"I was concerned about you, as well. I am certain that life has not been easy here."

"No, it hasn't, although we've done okay. We had one bad scare when a building collapsed on Captain Kirk, and we've seen some terrible things, but we're surviving. Food is getting scarce, though. We haven't had too much of a problem with marauders, but it's growing worse every day, and I'm sure that the captain will want to move our camp now that you're back..."

She paused, then smiled and smoothed his hair. He was sound asleep.

...

Another morning. Kirk stretched and rubbed his face, inhaling the welcome scent of coffee. That was the reason he always took the first watch. Uhura would end up with the last, and she was great about having coffee ready for him.

He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and staggered to a seat. The air was damp and cool this morning, and...

Well.

Grinning, he looked across the fire to see that Uhura was grinning back. "I'll be damned," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. "When did he get here?"

"I'd say that it was about six this morning. He walked for four straight days, and he's completely exhausted."

"I'll bet." He shuffled around the fire so he could be closer to Spock. "He looks pretty ragged."

"I think he feels pretty ragged. Just as we suspected, the soldiers took him away. He got a bump on the head, but he's okay."

Spock stirred, evidently roused by their voices, but all he did was roll onto his other side and go back to sleep.

"We'll let him rest for a while. He could use it, and it's not like we're meeting any deadlines." Kirk found a mug and poured himself some coffee. "I can't believe Trelane is still out, though. I was starting to feel like we had a baby that wouldn't sleep through the night."

"He fought so hard not to give in to his body's demands that I guess it finally caught up with him. He's still breathing. I checked."

Kirk made a wry face. "That's a relief. You're a good mother."

She clapped her hand over her mouth to cover a laugh, then whispered, "What a terrible thought! When I told you last night that I would have liked to have children, this is not what I had in mind. I'm afraid that he's your baby, not mine."

"Thanks a lot."

"Anytime." She smiled and handed him their bag of food. "Want something to eat?"

"Sounds good."

He selected a can of fruit and a granola bar. Unwrapping the granola bar, he looked back over at Spock. What sort of stories would his friend have to tell about the last few days? Judging by Spock's dead-to-the-world slumber, the journey couldn't have been easy.

But he had made it.

Kirk couldn't help but grin again, and when he glanced up at Uhura, he saw that she was grinning, too.

...

Leaning toward the fire, Spock wrapped his hands around the steaming mug. Although the crisp October sun had begun to clear away the mist, it still had not penetrated the atmosphere enough to suit him. He did not mind, however. With a coat, a blanket, and a cup of hot tea-not to mention Nyota's presence by his side-he considered himself to be situated in the lap of luxury. So to speak.

"So you found that the destruction extends a lot further than just the city?"

"Yes, Captain. In addition, even the areas that had escaped the worst of the assault were virtually deserted. I encountered some individuals and small groups, but they were invariably hostile."

"Same here, with a few exceptions that obviously won't last long."

They all fell quiet at Kirk's words, and Spock glanced at Nyota in the silence. She smiled sadly and reached over to squeeze his forearm, obviously grateful for the simple fact of his proximity.

Kirk looked at Trelane. "You haven't had much to say this morning. Not that I'm complaining, but what's up?"

A glum expression on his face, Trelane said, "There is something wrong with this body. And I was just getting used to how awkward and confining it is, too."

"What do you mean?" asked Nyota.

Trelane rubbed his throat. "It's so very bothersome. Whenever I try to swallow, it hurts. And my nose feels all wet and drippy. It is quite repulsive."

"Oh, my." She picked up the box of tissues and held them in his direction. "You've caught my cold. I'm sorry."

He recoiled. "You mean that I'm sick?"

"Afraid so."

His lip trembled. "Does that mean that I'm going to die? I don't want to die! Granted, this human existence is nothing to brag about, but-"

"No, no," Kirk interrupted. "It's not serious, Trelane. Humans get colds all the time. It can be an annoyance, but you'll get over it."

Trelane regarded Kirk, then looked over at Nyota. "Do you promise?" he asked shakily.

She waggled the tissue box at him. "We promise. Here, take these. You can use them to wipe the, er, drippiness. And don't get too close to either Captain Kirk or Spock. You don't want to spread your germs."

"But you did. Oh, very well." He snatched the box. "This is all your fault. I don't like you anymore."

She rolled her eyes but refrained from comment.

Rubbing his hands together, Kirk said, "Now that we're reunited, it's time for us to implement a plan that will get us back to where-and when-we belong."

"Since we have not already been extracted from this situation, am I to assume that Trelane is powerless to assist us?" asked Spock.

"He doesn't know how," Nyota stated.

"He does not know how?" Unable to keep the incredulity from his voice, Spock turned to Trelane. "You brought us here, knowing all the while you did not have the ability to return us?"

"I thought I could!" Trelane blew his nose. "Maybe. Besides, I don't like your tone. I'm not sure I would have helped you, even if I could have. It would have served you right to be stuck here forever all by yourself."

Spock took a deep breath before addressing Kirk again. "So it would appear that we must rely on our own ingenuity in resolving this problem."

Trelane held the tissue at arm's length between two fingers. "Why don't you just build us a warp engine or something?"

Nyota shook her head, but Spock raised an eyebrow. He had actually already considered that approach.

"It is not so farfetched as it sounds, Nyota. Theoretically it is possible, but ultimately impractical."

"Explain," said Kirk.

"As you know, Colonel Green has ensured that he and his troops possess the only operative transport. Therefore, our first task would be to obtain a functional spacecraft. Workable, although difficult. Once we had accomplished that, our next task would be to locate the appropriate materials. The warp drive has not yet been invented, but mankind is well on the path toward doing so. Therefore, we would require access to a wide variety of scientific and military installations. Once again, while that would be time-consuming and much riskier than merely obtaining a single spacecraft, we could do it."

"Agreed. Go on."

"The factor that finally makes this plan unworkable is the air defense of this time. Remember that Colonel Green and his cohorts gained complete control of Earth's satellite system. Their ruthlessness is well documented. They will not hesitate to destroy unidentified spacecraft. In my opinion, no one can pass through the defense net unscathed. Unless, of course, they do so via a transporter beam."

"That's exactly the conclusion we came to. We need to get a message to the twenty-third century so that someone can come back and rescue us."

"We must inventory our alternatives, and select..." Spock's voice trailed off when he noticed that Jim and Nyota were grinning at each other. "Am I to assume that you have already devised a method of doing so?"

Nyota nodded. "Think about it. We have to make our message very specific and address it to someone we know can help us. And we have to hide it away until the time it's needed."

Spock raised both eyebrows. "Hidden away for two hundred and fifty six point four years? Precisely? I find that rather difficult to-"

Kirk laughed. "We're going to leave a message in a bottle, Spock."

"Excuse me?"

"The time capsule." Nyota wrapped her fingers around his elbow. "Remember? I was telling you just last week about that man who found a container full of children's letters and mementos, right here in Manhattan. A classroom at one of the local schools had buried it in recognition of the year two thousand. They called it a time capsule."

"Ah. Of course. You told me that it was located next to the statue of Atlas, did you not?"

"Yes!" She pointed back over her shoulder with her thumb. "Atlas is right over there, unscathed. Why, we were probably standing on top of the time capsule. It's perfect."

"Now we just need to find some paper and a pen," said Kirk. "We'll decide what to tell Scotty while we dig it up. If I remember correctly, the concrete around the statue was broken."

Nyota nodded. "I don't think that the concrete will be a problem."

"Great." Kirk stood. "Let's get busy. Trelane, you're in charge. Don't let anyone near our things."

Trelane sneezed, then lifted his hand in a limp, half-hearted salute. "Aye, aye, sir."

Spock raised an eyebrow, surprised not only at the fact that Kirk would place Trelane in a position of responsibility, but that Trelane would willingly agree to cooperate. Fascinating.

He followed Jim and Nyota away from the campsite.

End chapter 5


	6. Chapter 6

The Real Thing, chapter 6

"Ready? Now!"

Feeling as if the blood vessels in his brain might explode, Kirk lifted his side of the huge slab of concrete. Spock, of course, didn't appear to even exert himself, although Kirk could tell by the way he moved that his feet hurt. No wonder, after walking all that distance in a pair of leather shoes. Kirk resolved to take his friend back to the demolished clothing store and find a decent pair of boots.

He carefully moved his feet out of the way before they dropped the concrete to the ground.

Uhura, kneeling next to a piece of paper, coughed and waved the dust particles out of the air. "Captain? I told Scotty that we're at the statue of Atlas, in Manhattan, which is part of New York City in North America. I dated it and explained that we're setting up camp on a nearby landscaped area that shouldn't be hard to find because it's the only patch of green around here. Is there anything else you'd like me to include?"

"Tell him that there are four of us, in case something happens and we're not together when he arrives. And although I'm sure he'll know not to come too close to Earth, it wouldn't hurt to mention it. Also, tell him to be sure he doesn't arrive before today."

"Yes, sir, but why?"

Spock answered. "We do not wish for Mr. Scott to rescue us before we have had a chance to bury the letter."

"That makes sense." She scribbled on the paper, then folded it and placed it in an envelope. "Done."

Digging with a shard of lumber, Spock said, "Nyota, ensure that you write Mr. Scott's home address on the envelope, as well as his Starfleet FPO number."

"Oh, that's right. He was on leave last week. Good idea."

Kirk picked up a second piece of wood to help. "Yes, good idea. If Starfleet delivers it, they'll know where to find him, but there's no way to predict who might end up with the job."

"Okay. It's done."

Uhura brushed the grime off her knees, and then wandered over to watch. The sun beat down on them, and Kirk had to pause several times to dash the perspiration away from his eyes. Finally, Spock discarded his piece of wood and started scraping away the dirt with his fingers.

"Definitely a solid object, Captain." He fell silent as he tugged something out of the dirt. "I would say that we have reached our goal."

"Excellent." Kirk backed away, wiping his forehead with his arm. "Can you open it?"

"Yes. Easily."

Spock unscrewed the top of the long cylinder and peered inside. Kirk knew that he was dying to sift through the contents, but Uhura handed him the envelope, so he simply slipped it inside and screwed the container shut. He put it back in the ground, and they quickly filled in the hole and heaved the piece of concrete back on top.

"All set." Kirk dusted off his hands. "Now we need to gather up our things and bring them to the new camp. That is, if Trelane didn't give them away."

Uhura laughed. "He might do it just to spite us."

"He very well might, indeed." An expression of disapproval on his face, Spock said, "We should return before he has the chance to do so."

"First, I want to stop by the place where we found our extra clothes." Kirk gestured at Spock's feet. "You need some decent boots. It's not far out of the way."

"Very good, Captain. I shall welcome practical footwear." Spock glanced over at Uhura. "And I have been informed that I smell like a sewer, so perhaps some new clothing would be in line, as well."

Kirk rubbed his chin. "I wasn't going to say anything, but now that you mention it..."

Spock raised an eyebrow at Uhura's laughter, and Kirk grinned. Things might not be exactly normal, but it sure was good to have Spock back. Somehow their situation suddenly seemed a lot less grim.

...

Back at the Fiftieth Street camp, Uhura immediately knelt and began gathering their belongings. She'd hardly had time to turn over the hamper before she noticed the glassiness of Trelane's eyes.

He didn't react when she placed a hand on his forehead.

"Captain? I think that Trelane has a fever."

Leaving Spock holding the sheets of plywood, Kirk joined her. "Trelane? How do you feel?"

His posture slumped, Trelane said, "Strange. This body hurts all over, and it can't decide if it's cold or if it's hot."

Kirk frowned. "That definitely sounds like a fever. We're moving camp now. Are you able to help?"

"No, I can't work," Trelane whimpered. "I can't do anything. I'm too weak. Can someone bring me something to drink?"

Uhura couldn't help but smile slightly as she met Kirk's eyes, but she refrained from reminding him just whose baby this was.

Kirk nodded. "All right. You stay here until we've moved, and then you can join us. The water is right there. I think that you should be able to help yourself."

Trelane pouted, but they went back to work.

...

Spock sat by the fire, listening for any unusual sounds in the night, as he studied the artifacts he had found behind the front counter in the store today. He had immediately recognized them: a small hand-held computer that was used solely for game playing, a ballpoint pen, and a flashlight. The computer no longer worked, having been smashed by the bricks, and the ballpoint pen appeared to be out of ink. The flashlight, however, required only a minor repair. He began shining it at the rubble of the nearby buildings in an attempt to measure the exact range of its beam.

"No fair... My hat... uniform..."

He turned off the flashlight and looked over at Trelane. Small beads of perspiration stood out on the man's brow, and he tossed fretfully on his pallet. Spock moved carefully around the sleeping forms of Jim and Nyota, and knelt beside him.

"Trelane. Are you awake?"

"My hat... don't like this one..." Trelane stopped talking, seized by a coughing fit.

"What is it, Spock?"

Spock glanced up to find Nyota standing behind him, her hair mussed and her eyes heavy. She leaned forward with her hands on his shoulders.

"Trelane is talking in his sleep," he replied.

She moved around him and brushed her fingers against Trelane's forehead. "He's burning up. Let's get these covers off."

The two of them quickly removed Trelane's blankets. Disturbed by their actions, he woke.

"No, don't do that! I'm cold! Where is my hat? I want my hat. I can't be a general if I don't have a hat."

She folded the blankets neatly at Trelane's feet. "He's delirious. I think that we need to wake up Captain Kirk."

"Don't bother. I'm awake."

Spock looked up to see that Kirk had risen from his pallet.

Kneeling, Kirk grasped Trelane's shoulders lightly. "Trelane. Settle down. Are you in pain?"

Trelane squinted. "Captain Kirk? I'm tired. Let me go back to sleep."

He reached for the blankets, but Uhura took them out of his hands. He didn't resist, instead flopping back down onto his pallet. He fell asleep immediately, and his labored breathing drowned out the other sounds of the night.

Kirk shook his head. "I can't believe he got sick so fast."

"He has no natural immunity, Captain." She folded the blankets again. "What was just a little cold to me hit him hard. Listen to him. I think that he might have pneumonia."

Looking up at Spock, Kirk said, "There's a pharmacy about three blocks away. It's possible we could find some medication there."

Spock nodded. "I am not familiar with the drugs in common use at this time, but perhaps we can locate an effective antibiotic."

"Let's do it, then." Kirk stood. "How well does that flashlight of yours work?"

"It has an approximate range of fifteen point eight meters. Not extremely powerful, but adequate for our purposes."

"All right. Let's go. Uhura, you hold down the fort."

"Aye, sir."

Spock picked up the flashlight and followed Kirk away from their campsite.

...

Digging through the rubble, Kirk found bottle upon bottle of cryptically labeled pills, mixed in with the gooey remnants of liquids and a lot of shattered plastic. When they had first arrived at the pharmacy, they had been dismayed to find little left. It hadn't taken them long, however, to realize that the controlled substances were under lock and key in the back. Of course, since the wall that prevented access to the controlled substances was the only part of the building left standing, it hasn't taken them long to overcome that obstacle and reach their goal.

A huge red book propped open on his lap, Spock said, "Can you find a drug labeled ceftriaxone? According to this reference manual, it is highly effective in treating infections of the upper respiratory system and can be used in combination with the erythromycin you already found."

"Shine the flashlight this way for a minute. This stuff seems to be in alphabetical order. Is it spelled with a 'C' or an 'S'?"

"C."

"Here. Ceftriaxone." Kirk slipped the bottle into his pocket. "How long does it take to have an effect?"

"This description does not include that level of detail."

"Okay. That should do it, then."

Spock carefully hid the book beneath a pile of bricks, and they started back toward camp.

...

Sitting on the ground, Uhura wrung out a wet rag and placed it across Trelane's forehead. Except for a nap when Kirk and Spock returned from the pharmacy, she had watched over the sick man all day. She knew that a large part of her conscientiousness was due to guilt-after all, she had given him the bug-but she couldn't help but be moved by his childlike helplessness.

He opened his eyes. "Commander Uhura, when will I get better?"

"The medicine should start working any time now, Trelane. Just go back to sleep, and maybe you'll feel better when you wake up."

He nodded and closed his eyes again, and she looked over to see Spock watching her closely. "Spock, we started these antibiotics over twelve hours ago. Shouldn't they be doing something by now?"

"I was not able to learn how quickly they should take effect." He dragged his seat closer. "He does not appear as restless as before. Do you not consider that an improvement?"

"No. I think that his fever has just dipped because it's the middle of the afternoon. I'd be willing to bet that it'll be back up by evening."

He regarded her closely. "You are still not recovered from your own illness. Perhaps you should rest. I will watch for a worsening of his symptoms."

"Thanks, Spock, but I'm fine." Squinting, she looked out across the plaza. "Shouldn't Captain Kirk be back soon? Those men who live in the alley seem pretty rough. It worries me that the captain has been gone so long."

"Patience, Nyota. I am certain he has not gone far. Now that we have left the message for Mr. Scott, all we can do is wait, and the inactivity is difficult for him. If patrolling the area releases some of his pent-up energy, it can only serve to make this experience easier for all of us. At any rate, I am certain that I could hear him if he required my assistance."

She grinned. "He has been a bit jumpy recently."

"I am certain that he hoped Mr. Scott would arrive immediately, but of course we all know that time travel is not that precise. In addition, it is possible that even once Mr. Scott locates the correct era, he will have to deal with the various detection devices of the time."

"Assuming that he got our message in the first place."

"Yes."

Sighing, she leaned against his legs, using them to support her back. "Have you ever been to Rockefeller Park?"

"No, I have not. I understand that it is quite scenic."

"It is. I want to come back here someday. I want to stand right on this spot and look around at the happy people and the green grass."

"We shall do that, then."

She turned, resting her forearm and chin on his knee. "And after that, I want to book a room on the top floor of the fanciest hotel in all of New York City. The more luxurious the better, with pillows and satin sheets and bubble bath and room service."

He ran his fingers across her cheek. "Then we shall do that, as well. As soon as we return to the Enterprise, we will consult our schedules and arrange a vacation."

She smiled. "That sounds good."

He nodded. "Yes. It does."

She held his eyes a moment longer, but finally moved back over next to Trelane.

End chapter 6


	7. Chapter 7

The Real Thing, chapter 7

Uhura sat warily at the campsite as she waited for Spock and the captain to return from a foraging expedition. She and Kirk had managed to squirrel away a pretty good amount of food before Spock arrived, but they wanted to refrain from using it as long as possible. It was beginning to look like they'd have to get into their hoard sooner than they'd planned, though. Supplies were growing harder and harder to find every day. It was only a matter of time before people became desperate.

Last night had been especially rough. Not only had Trelane's condition worsened, but they'd heard the sounds of conflict not too far away. Several gangs had settled into the area, and the inevitable struggle for dominance had begun. Hopefully their little group could just stay out of the way, minding their own business until Scotty rescued them from this increasingly nightmarish situation.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

Uhura snatched up her two-by-four and faced the menacing voice. Taking care to show no fear, she said, "Leave. Now."

The grimy man grinned at his companion. "I think that she doesn't like us, Joey. What a shame. She has no sense of hospitality."

"Maybe we should teach her better manners, Frank." Joey didn't look away from Uhura. "I'll bet that her friend, there, would be more than happy to let us help ourselves to some of that food."

She edged closer to Trelane. "He's sick."

"Oh, poor man. I guess he won't mind us, then."

Detecting an opportunity to bluff her way out of this, she said, "Actually, he's very sick. Not that I'm too concerned for your welfare, but if you come close, you'll catch it."

Joey hesitated, but Frank's voice grew hard. "Do you think we're worried about a few germs, lady? We're starving to death. You have food, and we're going to take it. As a matter of fact, I like fiery women. Maybe I'll take you, too."

Suddenly, he rushed toward the campsite. Holding her ground, Uhura gripped the board in both hands and smacked him on the shoulder as hard as she could. She would have rather aimed for his head, but she reminded herself that she couldn't risk causing permanent damage.

Crying out, Frank fell to the ground holding his upper arm. She took a step back and waggled the board, trying to keep an eye on both men.

"Care to give it a try, Joey?"

Joey started for her, but before she could react, Frank grabbed her foot and pulled her down on top of him. She threw an elbow, catching him in the chin, and scrambled back to her feet just as Joey wrapped a viselike grip around her upper arms.

"Spock! Help! Captain Kirk!"

Shouting at the top of her lungs, she stomped on Joey's instep. He howled and released her, so she whirled and brought her knee up into his crotch with all her strength. The activity had awakened Trelane, but as he struggled to his feet, Frank reached over with one hand and pushed him down. She heard him grunt when he hit the ground.

Frank lunged again, but she dodged him, reaching for the board. Instead of making another move to grab her, however, he swept up an armful of their supplies. Even though her better judgment told her that she should just let him have them, the knowledge that she hadn't adequately protected their campsite made her furious.

"Drop that! It's mine."

Swinging the board, she knocked everything out of his arms. He snarled at her, his face contorted with rage, but abruptly Joey shouted, "Frank! Run!"

Frank looked up in alarm, then dashed away on Joey's heels. Uhura noted with satisfaction that Joey couldn't quite stand straight and Frank held his arm. Panting, she watched them vanish, but an instant later she spun at the sound of approaching footsteps and raised the board with the intent of pounding someone else.

Stepping back quickly, Kirk held up both hands. "It's just us! Put the board down. Are you all right?"

"Yes." She blew the hair out of her eyes. "I'm okay."

Spock surveyed their scattered campsite. "What happened?"

Before she could respond, Trelane whimpered, "Those bad men wanted to take our food! I tried to help, but one of them pushed me down. They became really angry when Commander Uhura told them they couldn't have anything, and they started a fight."

Raising an eyebrow, Spock turned back in her direction. "You fought like this for a few cans of fruit? Nyota, you could have been hurt. Perhaps next time you should simply let them take the food."

"I couldn't do that!" She put her hands on her hips, not about to let him lessen her exhilaration over chasing those two hoodlums away. "If I did, they'd be right back the next time you weren't around. Besides, I didn't like the way they looked at me. I'm not sure they would have stopped at the food."

Spock sighed, and her indignation lessened at the obvious concern in his expression. And although she knew he didn't want to admit it, she could also see that he understood she was right.

Kirk patted her on the shoulder, then started putting everything back where it belonged. "Good job, Uhura. I'm sure they'll think twice before they bother us again."

"Captain, this is not the only group which threatens us," said Spock. "Soon we will be forced to choose between protecting ourselves and doing harm to others. Perhaps we should consider leaving the city."

"Leave the city?" Trelane echoed. "Where would we go?"

"Ideally, we would find a wilderness area. Although our access to resources would diminish, our risk of altering history would diminish as well."

Kirk straightened. "Spock, I agree that it might come to that, but for now the advantages of living here outweigh the disadvantages. We'll stay put."

"Yes, sir. In that case, I suggest that we limit our absences from the camp."

"Agreed."

"Oh, good." Trelane closed his eyes. "I didn't want to go anywhere, anyway."

Her elation gone, Uhura knelt to help the others tidy up the campsite.

...

Spock steepled his fingers as he studied the rich colors of the sky. In all of his travels, he had learned that no place in the universe could rival Earth for the sheer spectacle of her sunsets. Such a statement was not sentimental. It was merely a fact.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

He looked at Kirk, sitting next to him. "It is most impressive."

"It's so beautiful that I can almost forget the ugliness everywhere else." Kirk sighed, not looking away from the sky. "Almost."

Spock transferred his gaze to Nyota, who slept soundly despite the relatively early hour. Because they had decided that they needed to keep watch in pairs, they had been forced to extend their sleeping hours. No matter. They had nothing more productive to do with their time, and both of the humans were badly in need of rest.

"Spock."

Spock looked up sharply. Although Kirk's voice was low, it was filled with tension.

"What is it, Captain?"

"Look over there." Kirk gestured subtly with his fingertips. "Between those two buildings. My eyes might be playing tricks on me in this dusky light, but I think someone is watching us."

Spock narrowed his eyes and searched. After a moment, he said, "Yes. A man."

"Is it one of the men who were here earlier?"

"No. I have never seen this man before." He turned around. "There is someone on the other side of us, as well. Correction. Two people."

Kirk reached for a board and stood. "Wake up the others."

Spock had already crouched next to Uhura and gripped her shoulder firmly. He did not have to speak; obviously, she had noticed his alarm the moment she opened her eyes. She scrambled to her feet, but before he could reach for Trelane, he caught a flash from the corner of his eye-the last few rays of sun reflecting off metal.

"Jim!"

"I see, Spock!"

His face determined, Kirk swung the board and knocked a knife from the hands of a man who had seemingly appeared from nowhere. The other three men rushed toward them, so Spock quickly awakened Trelane, then moved into position next to Uhura and Kirk. Their assailants were clearly undeterred by this defensive stance, so Spock moved forward, meeting one of the men head-on.

The man had the advantage of momentum, and Spock felt the air rush from his lungs at the impact. He managed to stay on his feet, grappling with the man until he was able to free his hand and grasp the man's shoulder. The man fell limply, and Spock immediately turned to assist the others.

Evidently Kirk had given the board to Uhura, for she was using it to hold off the attacker with the knife. Kirk, on the other hand, was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with another man. A fourth lay on the ground, clearly having already been dispatched. Spock quickly climbed over Trelane, who huddled on the ground, but before he could reach Uhura, the angry man managed to catch the board and wrest it from her hands.

Spock felt his heart rate accelerate as the man lunged at her with the knife. She kicked his forearm, altering his trajectory so that he missed, but he was a big man-Spock knew that she would not win this battle. Throwing himself forward, he caught the man by the shoulders and knocked him to the ground. A searing pain burned across the back of his hand and he understood that he had made contact with the knife, but he did not allow that to break his concentration.

Because the campsite was at the top of a small hill, Spock knew that they would roll when they fell. He focused his attention on holding the knife away from his body as they tumbled down the incline. He was marginally aware of the blood flowing from his hand, but he could not think of that now. At any rate, his greatest concern was exposure of his identity, and the color of his blood could not easily be seen in this light.

They came to a rest with the man on top. Spock tried to retain his grip on the man's arm, but evidently the cut was deeper than it appeared and he could not control his fingers. The man pulled his hand loose, raised the knife...

...and slumped over, his body like a dead weight across Spock's chest. Spock peered up to see Uhura standing over him, a slab of concrete in her hands. Kirk was right behind her.

"Are you all right?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes. Can you remove this man? I do not want to get blood on him."

"Oh, of course."

Together, Kirk and Uhura heaved the man over to the side. A worried expression on her face, she said, "I hope I didn't kill him."

Kirk knelt. "He's still breathing. I'd say that he's just going to have a heck of a headache later. Let's drag the four of them away from here, and with any luck, they'll leave us alone when they come to."

Uhura moved close to Spock. "Are you badly hurt?"

He tried to flex his fingers but was not entirely successful. "The cut is fairly deep. I do not believe that any tendons were severed, but I cannot be certain."

Kirk placed a hand on his shoulder. "You stay here with Trelane and see what you can do for your hand while Uhura and I take care of these guys."

Spock met Uhura's gaze. "Be careful."

She nodded. He could see the concern in her eyes, but no one else spoke as they turned to their respective tasks.

...

Day number seven. Kirk rubbed his face, glad that the bristles on his chin had grown out enough that they didn't itch anymore. Still, he'd pay a fortune for some beard repressor right now, or even just a decent shave.

Shaking his head ruefully, he leaned forward and checked the fire. Exhaustion was certainly taking a toll on him if he could worry about grooming at a time like this. Yesterday's two attacks had seemed serious enough, but today had been even worse. No sooner had the sun come up this morning than they heard the sound of ordered footsteps echoing through the streets. They'd been forced to run for their lives, dragging Trelane around the ruins for hours as they tried to evade the soldiers. When they had finally returned to their camp, they found that it had been ransacked, everything gone except the charred can they used for the fire.

Trelane coughed, an ugly, hoarse, choking sound, and Uhura knelt to check on him. She moved stiffly, and Kirk couldn't help but notice that she winced when she reached awkwardly across her body with her left arm, her right arm held tightly against her side. Earlier this evening, she hadn't even moved ten meters from camp, but evidently the man who had attacked her yesterday-Frank-had been lurking nearby, just waiting for his opportunity. It had happened quickly, but he'd had time to manhandle her before they chased him away.

Kirk looked over to see Spock watching her closely, a frown on his face, Spock hadn't left her side since the attack, hovering protectively as if his mere presence could ward off further harm. Kirk knew, however, that it would soon take much more than the presence of a single man to keep trouble away. The gangs were growing larger, more vicious, and more determined, and he didn't know how many more nights the three of them could stay awake, constantly vigilant against the menace that grew more suffocating with every moment.

He picked up another splintered piece of wood and threw it into the fire.

End chapter 7


	8. Chapter 8

The Real Thing, chapter 8

Another night.

Kirk jumped to his feet at the sound of a distant scream, but soon returned to his seat and continued listening to Trelane's labored breathing. Their patient's condition had seemed to decline with every passing moment, and Kirk could tell that he wasn't the only one who was concerned.

He turned toward Uhura and noticed how the firelight exaggerated the worried creases around her eyes. She'd kept a constant supply of damp rags coming and going, but it seemed to be as much for her own reassurance as for Trelane's comfort, because nothing she did seemed to help. Even Spock appeared more somber than usual as he divided his attention between the dark that surrounded them, and Uhura and Trelane. His bandaged, swollen hand rested limply in his lap, and Kirk knew he had to be in pain even though he hadn't said a word about it since yesterday.

The fire grew blurry, and Kirk blinked to refocus his eyes. He hadn't slept yet tonight-none of them had-even though it was well after midnight. As a matter of fact, they hadn't slept much for the past several nights, and everything was beginning to take on an aura of unreality.

"Nyota, it is illogical for all three of us to remain awake." Spock said quietly.

She didn't look away from Trelane. "Then you sleep."

"It is not my turn."

"You can have my turn. I've officially given it to you."

Spock sighed heavily, an expression of exaggerated patience on his face. Under normal circumstances, Kirk would have been amused at Spock's reaction to her irritability, but tonight he just leaned closer to Trelane.

"How's he doing?"

"Worse, Captain," said Uhura. "He's burning up with fever, and he can hardly breathe."

Kirk studied the unhealthy sheen on Trelane's face. "I don't understand why none of the antibiotics have helped. Maybe we should try something new."

Spock shook his head. "It is my opinion that such an attempt would be futile. I should have realized this sooner, Captain, but he is most likely infected by twenty-third century bacteria. It is well documented that the antibiotics widely in use at this time grew ineffective. The bacteria evolved, developing resistance to the drugs."

Moving from the ground to a seat, Uhura asked, "But what can we do? He can't go on like this much longer."

Spock met Kirk's eyes across the fire. "He requires a doctor's care."

Kirk rubbed his face wearily before facing Spock again. "I know."

Uhura looked from Kirk back to Spock. "Just where do you think you're going to find a doctor? We can't assume that Dr. McCoy will be here soon. There's no telling when that will happen."

Kirk ignored her testiness as he watched Spock. Spock made no attempt to answer her question, so finally Kirk said, "There are doctors in the internment camps."

Spock nodded. "Exactly."

Her eyes widened as she grasped Spock's forearm. "They'll kill us."

"That is precisely why we should not all go. Two people must wait for Mr. Scott, protecting one another in shifts."

"Spock, no-"

Interrupting Uhura's objection, Kirk stood. "Help me make a travois from these scraps of wood."

"Captain, you cannot possibly use a travois to transport Trelane over such a distance." Spock stood, as well. "I know the way. I can carry him in my arms. If Mr. Scott arrives, you would easily be able to locate me via a scan. For all of these reasons, I am the logical choice to take him to a doctor."

Kirk frowned at the validity of Spock's points, but he still wasn't ready to concede. Shaking his head, he said, "The gangs will be everywhere by now. You said it yourself-they were moving from the city to the surrounding areas in search of food. You can't protect both yourself and a sick man."

"What? What's happening?"

Kirk looked down at the sound of a weak voice to see that Trelane was awake.

"Maybe nothing." Uhura crouched beside Trelane. "I agree with the captain, Spock. No telling what you'll run into, and besides, how long do you think it'll take? Four days? Does he... Do we have four days?"

"Unknown. Do you have a better suggestion, Nyota? Would you prefer that I stay?"

She bit her lip as she gazed up at him, but she finally looked away. "No. Come on, Trelane. Let's get you ready to travel."

Kirk ran his hand through his hair, aggravated that the two of them seemed to have reached a command decision without him. "We're going together," he said pointedly. "If Scotty scans for you, Spock, he'll find all of us. You can't possibly manage with your hand all bandaged up like that."

Spock crossed his arms in front of his chest. "If the bandages interfere, I will remove them. You will only slow me down."

"They'll have a field day with you at the genetic research facilities if you're caught."

"That would be no less true if the three of us went, and my chances of eluding capture are better alone."

Kirk stiffened at Spock's continued defiance. "Assuming you can even get there in the first place."

"I was able to navigate the outlying areas before. I can do so again."

"Saddled with Trelane? It's not the same. Where the hell is your logic?"

Spock bristled visibly at that statement, and Kirk recognized that even a Vulcan's temper could begin to fray when subjected to this kind of ongoing stress. Their words were quickly escalating from a discussion to an argument, but he was too damned tired to care.

He took a step closer and continued. "You can't do it alone. As matter of fact, no one is going to do it alone, because it would leave the other two behind. We're having a hard enough time protecting ourselves as it is. Two would find it impossible. We're going together. End of discussion."

There was a long pause as he glared at Spock, daring the other man to disagree, but finally Uhura broke the silence.

"Captain, I think that my shoulder might be separated. I can't travel like this."

Kirk could tell from the sudden creases around Spock's eyes that she had hidden her injuries from him as well, but his gaze didn't waiver. Finally, Kirk took a deep breath and forced himself to be the one to break eye contact. In his exhaustion, he'd allowed his emotions to run away from him, but he couldn't afford the luxury of emotional thinking right now.

Deliberately calm, he said, "You should have told me that sooner, Uhura."

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't want to be a bother."

Before Kirk could reply, Trelane was wracked by a sudden coughing fit. Uhura handed him a cloth and put her arm around his shoulder to support him, but it was clear that her actions were pitifully insufficient. And when the coughing finally eased, Kirk saw a frightening streak of bright red blood on the tattered cloth.

He sagged slightly. None of their choices were good, but he didn't need Spock to calculate the odds of which choice was least bad. He also couldn't allow his personal feelings to sway his thinking.

He began filling Spock's duffel with supplies. "As much as it pains me, Spock, your chances of success are better than mine. You go."

"Go where?" Trelane allowed Uhura to help him with his shoes. "Where can we find a doctor?"

"At the internment camps," she said without looking up.

"The internment camps." Trelane turned to Kirk. "Aren't those bad places? Won't they kill us?"

"Possibly," said Kirk, "but you're very sick, and it's our best chance to help you."

"You would send him away? For me?"

Kirk nodded grimly without replying.

Trelane looked up at Spock. "You would risk your life for me?"

"We cannot simply sit back and allow you to die." Spock put a pair of gloves in his pocket and turned toward Kirk. "If you find that you must exit the city, please leave directions if possible. Here is my map. You have greater need of it than I."

Accepting the crumpled paper, Kirk handed over the duffel. "We'll leave a note near Atlas, under a rock or a piece of cement. You help Scotty find us if he arrives before you make it back."

Trelane faced Uhura. "Don't you know that you might be sending your husband to his death?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Now quit talking and help me get you ready to travel."

While Uhura found a hat for Trelane, Kirk looked into Spock's eyes. Would he ever see his friend again? He'd had to place Spock in danger many times before, but for some reason, this time it seemed much more hopeless. Maybe it was because they were so far from home or maybe it was because of his own depleted mental state, but he had to fight to keep bleakness from coloring his tone.

Gripping Spock's arm, he said, "Be careful, and don't worry about us. We'll be fine. Just return as quickly as you can."

"Yes, sir."

Kirk noticed that Uhura stood behind him, so he stepped out of the way. At first she didn't move, and as Kirk watched her, he was struck by the realization that there was a good reason he'd never let himself fall in love with someone like her. Eventually you might be forced to say goodbye.

She reached up with her good arm and placed a hand on the side of Spock's face. Her eyes bright, she murmured, "Don't make me wait too long for you again."

Spock's determined expression faltered just for an instant as he gazed down at her, and Kirk could see his awareness of the possible finality of their parting. A moment later, he swallowed and lifted his hand with two fingers extended. She pressed her hand to his, then backed away.

Spock bent, putting one arm under Trelane's back and the other under his knees, but before Spock could straighten, Trelane cried, "No! I can't let you do this! Put me down. Please, just put me down."

Kirk stepped back in surprise, and when he met Spock's eyes, he saw that his friend was no less startled by Trelane's sudden change in attitude.

Squirming out of Spock's arms, Trelane said, "I can't let you do this. You'll be killed, and she'll be without her husband, and he'll be without his friend. It's real, it's all too real, and I don't like the real thing." A tear slid down his cheek. "This is all my fault. I wish I'd never heard of Earth or time travel or this awful war. I wish I could make it all go away."

"Our son."

Whipping around at the sound of a disembodied masculine voice, Kirk looked up at the sky to see two glowing lights descend toward them.

A second, feminine voice said, "You have learned much, my child. These good people were ready to make the greatest sacrifice, and all for a cause that many would see as hopeless. You did not let them, however, and for that we are proud."

Turning his tear-streaked face upward, Trelane said, "Mother? Father? Is that you? I ran away, and I thought that I would never see you again."

"Your trail was not so hard to follow, my son," the male voice said with amusement. "We have been observing you for quite some time. We wished to see if you had learned anything from your ordeal. You did not disappoint us."

Kirk stepped forward. "You put us through a great deal of unnecessary suffering, and you almost let your son die. How could you do that?"

"No one was ever in any danger, Captain Kirk. We would have intervened on an instant's notice, if necessary. We could not allow our child to depart from this experience thinking it was just a folly he could repeat again."

"Come." The feminine voice grew softer. "Come home, Trelane."

Kirk watched Trelane fade until finally there was only an empty pallet left on the ground. Turning with the intention of celebrating their rescue, his boisterous words faded unspoken when he met Uhura's eyes. Spock had drawn her close, his hand on her shoulder, and her smile of relief was beautiful to see. Kirk blinked and felt a gentle smile curve his own lips.

The next thing he knew, he was back on the bridge of the Enterprise.

...

His gym bag on his shoulder, Kirk stopped in front of the door and signaled his presence. While it might be true that no time had elapsed on the ship while they were gone, it had been over a week since he'd had the opportunity to work out in a cool, civilized environment. Of course, he hadn't lacked for exercise during their stay in New York, but somehow his idea of the perfect workout didn't include dodging falling bricks or fighting over a can of mixed nuts.

He grinned. It sure felt good to be back in a normal routine again.

A woman's voice told him to enter, so he stepped through the door to find Spock seated at the computer and Uhura curled up on the sofa with a book.

"Spock, I was on my way to the gym and I thought you might want to join me."

"That would be agreeable. Allow me one moment to-"

The door signaled another visitor, and Uhura raised both eyebrows. "Busy tonight, isn't it? Come."

Scotty stepped into the room, his hand behind his back. "Oh, good. The computer said that I could find all three of ye here. Ye won't believe what came for me today!"

Uhura put down her book. "What?"

A huge grin on his face, Scotty removed his hand from behind his back to reveal a crumpled, smudged, yellowed piece of paper.

"Oh, our letter!" Uhura rose to her feet and took it from him, then opened it carefully. "You got it!"

Kirk shook his head. "Well, now we know why Scotty didn't come back for us. He didn't get the letter until after we'd already returned."

Spock peered over Uhura's shoulder. "Fascinating. This letter is two hundred and forty-six years old."

"Amazing, isn't it?" Scotty chuckled. "I know that sometimes the mail can be slow, but this one takes the cake."

Uhura held it close to her chest. "May I keep it?"

"Of course, lass. I have no need for it, now that ye are all back safe and sound." He turned toward the door. "I'll be going now."

"Bye, Scotty. Thanks." Uhura carried the letter over to the desk and sat beside Spock to take a closer look. "Incredible. We wrote this letter in another time and place. You know, Spock and I were thinking..."

She met Spock's eyes. He nodded once, so she looked back up at Kirk and continued.

"We were thinking that it might be nice to take a trip to New York."

"To New York? Not to burst your bubble, but didn't we just get back from there?"

She chuckled. "We want to go to Rockefeller Park, and it just seems fitting that you go with us. That expanse of broken concrete is a beautiful place now, so serene and alive. It's come a long way in two hundred and fifty years. Will you go?"

He hesitated. "It's a wonderful idea, but I don't know. I wouldn't want to impose."

"We are not inviting you to share our hotel room," said Spock.

Kirk laughed, not only at Spock's comment, but at Uhura's expression of disbelief as she turned toward her husband. Meeting her gaze, Spock raised an eyebrow, so she finally shook her head and faced Kirk again.

"Anyway," she said, "maybe you could do your own thing afterwards, but we'd love to see the Park with you. It's a fitting tribute not just to the people who died, but to the people who survived. I thought that we could walk together and remember them."

Kirk blinked as Edith's words drifted through his mind.

_Now I don't pretend to tell you how to find happiness and love, when every day is just a struggle to survive. But I do insist that you do survive, because the days and the years ahead are worth living for._

"I would enjoy that very much," he said solemnly. "Thank you."

She nodded and looked back down at the letter. "Two hundred and fifty years. Funny, but it almost seems that far away now, doesn't it? So unreal."

Kirk looked over at Spock, expecting him to tell her how illogical her statement was. When Spock didn't comment, however, Kirk picked up his bag and started toward the door. They all knew very well that it had been real. No need to point that out.

He gestured gently toward the door. "C'mon Spock, let's go."

Rising, Uhura said, "I think that I'd like to go, too. I could use a long, cool swim."

Kirk smiled, and together they left for the gym.

End story

The next story in this series is The Most Forgiven.


End file.
